Skip to main content

Full text of "The real America in romance, with reading courses : being a complete and authentic history of America from the time of Columbus to the present day"

See other formats


I-J 3r 


Vouin V 


The Age of Reason 

d mtc^youU!^ . ^ueu from ingjact mat oyaQtid^exSHt that pre- 
ary examinations in witchcraft cases were held in one of its rooms 
when it ieas occupied by one of the judges in the witchcraft trials. 
The house is said to have been owned by Roger Williams in 
1635 and it was from this house that Williams fled 
when the vessel, sent by the magistrates of 
Boston, arrirtd at Salem to re- 


4^ *> r* '> 
i ^ 



Vol. f 

<\ A* 


Volume V 


The Age of Reason 








COPYRIGHT, 1893, 1906 AND 1907, BY 


Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England 

[Printed in the United States of America] 







THIS volume is designed to cover the history 
of New England, in the form of a story, from 
1620 to 1644, the period at which the New England 
colonies formed their first confederation for mutual 
protection. Mathew Stevens, a youth born at St. 
Augustine of Spanish and French parents, had 
been abducted and carried to England, in the year 
1586, by Sir Francis Drake, and was there pur- 
chased by Mr. John Robinson, who "had compas- 
sion on the child," and brought him up "in the 
fear of the Lord. " Thus Mathew Stevens (Mattheo 
Estevan), though born of a Catholic father, became 
an English Puritan. By transferring the Estevan 
family from Florida to England, they are changed 
from Spanish to English, without breaking the 
lineal descent from the first youth who sailed with 
Columbus to Mathew Stevens the young Puritan. 


His romantic adventures and singular love affair 
form the chief groundwork for this story. 

In order that the reader may have a better idea 
of the Pilgrims and their peculiar persecutions, the 
story opens with their flight into Holland. Just 
a glimpse of their life in Ley den is given, and they 
are hastened on board the Mayflower , where will 
be found as full and accurate an account of jtheir 
memorable voyage as can be given without weary- 
ing one with useless detail. Though the Pilgrims 
and the colony of Massachusetts form the main 
features of the story, it embraces the history of 
North America from the time at which the novel 
"Pocahontas" left off, to the year when the col- 
onies of New England were united. 


KIKKSVILLB, Mo. , June 1st, 1892. 






THE MAYFLOWER, . . . . . . , . 45 

PLYMOUTH ROCK, . ... . . . .65 


ALICE, . . . . ... ... .105 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET, . . . . . . 188 








THE SOLDIER FINDS WORK, . . .... . 210 

GOOD FOR EVIL, . . . s ". *V ' '" . . 225 


% - 


THE MISCHIEF MAKER, . . . ~. . . . 272 


SEEKING THE LOST, . . . .. . . .811 




CHRONOLOGY, ... .369 


"""orrer Williams' House, Salem. . . Frontispiece 

Pilgrim standing in the pillory 1 

It was quite evident that they feared pursuit, . . 3 

" By the mass, it is a Puritan in arms !" . . 14 

"Do you want your liberty?" ..... 22 

They were seated before the cheerful peat fire, . . 44 

Francis Billington, 57 

"Help me out! 'Tisatrap!" 73 

Indian huts, 78 

He paused for her answer, 117 

The Hollanders did not seem to be in the least alarmed 

at his threats 127 

"What troubles you, Matthew?" 143 

"Prythee, John, why do you not speak for yourself? '' 184 

He took shelter in a hollow tree 206 

"Go, Roger Williams, fly at once!" . . . .207 

Endicott 218 

Indian maiden beating hominy, 223 

The door of mercy was shut, 256 

Roger Williams' house and Indian chief's grave, . 259 

Davenport, 263 

Strange emotions swayed his soul as he lifted the lid, 285 
The whole company followed Calvert and the priests 

in procession, ....... 306 

"You you are her father!" 339 

"God be praised, day dawns at last!" . . . 345 

Map of the period, 292 





Why do these steeds stand ready dight? 
Why watch these warriors armed by night? 
They watch to hear the blood -hound baying, 
They watch to hear the war-horn braying. 


T the close of a dreary day 
in March, 1608, two pedes- 
trians were passing along 
one of those lonely and 
unused roads in an unfrequented 
heath in Lincolnshire. The hour 
was a little past twilight and the 
western sky presented an un- 
usual, if not an ominous, ap- 
pearance. A sharp and melan- 
choly breeze was abroad, and 
the sun, which had become 
lost in a mass of red clouds, 
half angry and half placid 
in appearance, had for some 
brief space gone down. 
Over from the north, how- 

Vol. 51 


ever, glided, by imperceptible degrees, a long black 
bar, right across the place of the sun's disappear- 
ance, and nothing could be more striking than the 
wild and unnatural contrast between the dying crim- 
son of the west and the fearful mass of impenetrable 
darkness that came over it. There was no moon 
and the portion of light, or rather "darkness 
visible, "that feebly appeared on the sky and land- 
scape, was singularly sombre and impressive, if 
not actually appalling. The scene about the pedes- 
trians was wild and desolate in the extreme, and 
as the faint outlines of the blasted heaths appeared 
in the dim and melancholy distance, the feelings 
they were calculated to inspire were those of dis- 
comfort and depression. On either side of the 
travellers was a variety of lonely lakes, abrupt 
precipices, and extensive marshes, and as they jour- 
neyed along, the hum of the snipe, the feeble but 
mournful cry of the plover, and the wilder and more 
piercing whistle of the curlew seemed to deepen 
the melancholy dreariness of the situation, adding 
to the anxiety of the travellers to press onward. 

They gathered their cloaks more closely about 
them and drew their steeple-crowned hats low over 
their faces as the bleak March winds swept across 
the dismal heath. Each carried a stout staff in his 
hand; but no other arms were perceptible. The 
elder was about forty-eight years of age, and the 


younger not over thirty-three. There was a dig- 
nity and clerical manner about them, which at 
once marked them as ministers of the Gospel. 


Their quick, nervous steps and the watchful 
glances, which from time to time they cast about 
them, made it quite evident that they feared 


"We shall soon be at the Humber, Mr. Brew- 
ster," the younger of the twain encouragingly 

"So we shall," Brewster answered, "and I trust 
that God will guard us from the enemy, that we 
may plant the vine out of Egypt." 

Kobinson listened for a moment, as if expect- 
ing to hear the roll of Pharaoh's chariots, and 
remarked : 

" We seem to have escaped. " After a moment's 
silence, Brewster added: 

"Ah! Mr. Robinson, it is hard to be thus 
driven out of our own land and forced to go and 
dwell among strangers. Sad is the day when 
we cannot worship God according to our own 

"The Lord's will be done," answered Mr. Rob- 
inson. John Robinson, the pastor of the Pilgrim 
church in England, afterward at Leyden, was the 
personification of patience and Christian resigna* 
tion. William Brewster, his companion in ban- 
ishment, was at times despondent and ready to give 
up in despair, and, but for Robinson, the church 
organization would no doubt have gone to pieces 
in the dark days of 1608. Thoroughly imbued 
with religious thought, with a faith as firm as old 
Plymouth Rock, he believed that the clouds were 
never so dark that the sun did not shine brightly 


beyond, for God never deserts his own. John 
Eobinson was born to lead. He was of that stuff 
of which martyrs are made, and while the king, 
through his officials, was harassing the Pilgrims, 
Robinson was ever cheerful, ever happy, and 
praised God continually. 

"Our gathering place is in sight," remarked Mr. 
Brewster as they came upon a part of the heath' 
near the mouth of the Humber. "Behold, the 
vessel rides at anchor to bear the exiles from their 
native shores." 

"God wills it," reverently answered Robinson. 

An assembly of men, women and children were 
gathered on the heath near the river. Beneath 
some blasted trees, which tossed their barren 
branches against the leaden sky, were piled the 
household effects of the Pilgrims. That gathering 
was composed of simple farmers and mechanics. 
Not a man of gentle blood was among them. Not 
a man of prominence, or if we exclude Brewster 
and Robinson of more than mediocre ability, was 
in that assemblage, yet among them were the seeds 
of a mighty nation. Giants in intellect sprang 
from those humble farmers and tradesmen to the 
confusion of the doctrine of inherited genius. 

The Pilgrim leaders were greeted with low mur- 
murs of welcome from the assembled band. No 
one dared speak in a loud tone lest some of the 


king's spies or soldiers might be within hearing. 
The dreary and desolate night slowly spread its sable 
mantle over the scene. Persons of all ages were 
assembled on the banks of the Humber, from the 
infant at its mother's breast, to the gray-haired 
patriarch, who only awaited the call of his Master 
to depart to the echoless shore from whence there 
is no return. Three or four of the younger chil- 
dren were feebly wailing under the cloaks with 
which they were muffled, while the older ones 
stood shivering, but uncomplaining, beneath the 
blasted trees. 

"We are all here, Mr. Eobinson," said a Pil- 
grim, as the pastor came upon the scene. 

"Has the boat come ashore?" 

"It has, and the officers are anxious for us to 
embark, as they fear the king's soldiers." 

"Where is Mathew, Mr. Eobinson?" asked Wil- 
liam Bradford. 

"We left him on the heath as a guard to give 
us warning of the approach of the king's sol- 

"I wish we were safe on board," remarked Mr. 
Carver. "My wife and babe suffer in this bleak 
March wind." 

"Many will, I fear, get their death," sadly an- 
swered Mr. Robinson. 

At this moment the master of the ship which 


was to bear them to Holland came up and in his 
rough, sailor way declared: 

" We must be gone from the harbor at once, or 
the king's ships may intercept my vessel. Will 
you never be ready to go aboard?" 

Mr. Robinson, who was temporal as well as 
spiritual leader, called to the men: 

" Come, bestir yourselves. Get those household 
effects aboard, and then we will take the women 
and children." 

Some dry fagots had been gathered and a fire 
kindled in the lower grounds, around which the 
women and children crowded for warmth. The 
fire being in the lowest part of the landscape, it 
was hoped that it would not be seen by their watch- 
ful enemies. While the women with their shiver- 
ing children sought thus to instil some warmth into 
their bodies, the men busied themselves in carry- 
ing aboard their worldly effects. There were many 
family relics there, many precious heirlooms, 
valueless in themselves, yet sacred to the owners, 
for some recollection they retained. 

"Whose oaken chest is this?" asked Mr. Brad- 
ford, pausing by an ancient-looking piece of fur- 

For a moment no one spoke. It was a curious 
chest, evidently not of English make. The lid 
was heavy and strong, as if it were made to hold 


treasures. The quaint old lock which had been 
broken was such as would excite the wonder of a 
modern locksmith. It had two handles, one at 
either end, strongly made of bands of steel. 

"Whose oaken chest is this?" Bradford again 

"It is the property of our pastor, Mr. Robin- 
son," Stephen Hopkins answered. 

"I never saw such curious handiwork. He 
surely kept it concealed." 

"Perhaps it is a sacred relic." 

"It was not made in England." 

" No, I have heard that it came from the Span- 
ish colonies in America." 

Further conversation was interrupted by the im- 
patient master of the vessel, saying: 

" Haste, we have just received information that 
a party of the king's horse has started to intercept 

"Is this your chest, Mr. Robinson?" asked 
Bradford of the pastor who came along at that 

" Yes no that is, it belongs to my foster-son, 

" Where did he get it?" asked the inquisitive 
Stephen Hopkins. 

"Haste, friend Hopkins, never mind the chest." 

"You can tell us, even as we carry it aboard.' 4 


" It was brought by Sir Francis Drake from St. 
Augustine. That is sufficient for the present; at 
some future time I may tell you the story of that 
oaken chest, but we have not time now. Make 
thee haste, and get everything aboard." 

The energetic pastor, assisted by his ruling 
elder, Mr. William Brewster, was everywhere, 
urging the men to extra exertion. They even 
carried some of the heaviest articles themselves, for 
Robinson and Brewster were physical as well as 
moral giants. Each possessed a constitution unim- 
paired by dissipation and hardened by exposure. 
All the Pilgrims worked steadily, and the loading 
went rapidly on. 

Save their household effects and a few tools, 
there was little else to carry aboard the ship. 
Piled under one of the leafless trees, through the 
barren branches of which the night wind sighed a 
mournful requiem, were the arms and armor of 
the Pilgrims, for each Pilgrim was a soldier in 
defence of his civil and religious liberties. Half 
a hundred of those quaint old guns, called match- 
locks, rarely seen at this day, even in the mu- 
seums, leaned against the tree. 

The match-lock was still in general use at that 
day, for the wheel -lock never did fully supplant it. 
It was an improvement over the arquebus, as it 
was provided with a cock in which a match was 


kept. It was also provided with a pan, covered 
by a bit of steel to protect the powder. Before 
firing his musket, the soldier had to blow the 
ashes off his match, and open his pan. The gun 
called the snaphance, or flint-lock, though invented 
at this time, had not come into general use. In 
addition to the guns and a few pistols, there were 
many jacks of mail, swords and rapiers, with belts, 
corsets, breasts and backs, culets, gorgets, tasses 
and head-pieces, all varnished black, with leathers 
and strong buckles, piled in promiscuous confu- 
sion about the root of the tree. One to gaze upon 
the warlike array of arms and protective armor, 
could hardly suppose that they were the property 
of a band of churchmen. 

The sailors of the vessel were indolent fellows, 
and refused to aid the Pilgrims to get their goods 
on board the vessel. Having served with Drake 
and Hawkins in their semi -piratical expeditions, 
they had an aversion to either honest toil or hon- 
est pay. The greatest part of the Pilgrims were 
consequently kept on board of the vessel, packing 
their goods in the hold of the ship, while all the 
remainder were busy rowing the boats, and carry- 
ing off the effects. 

The women and children hovered about the 
watch-fire, keeping close together to instill some 
warmth into their poor shivering bodies. 


The last boat-load had gone and only three men 
remained on shore. They were the pastor John 
Robinson, Stephen Hopkins and Edward Tilly. 

Mr. Robinson went to where the women and 
children of his flock hovered about the fire, and 
endeavored to instil into their fainting souls some 
hope. He told them that the sun never failed to 
shine, however dark it might seem. So was God's 
goodness always shining upon us. The wickedness 
of kings and rulers might temporarily obscure the 
joy which God intended for his children; yet in 
time, happiness would return as surely as the sun 
came after the night to warm and invigorate the 

Hope began once more to revive in their hearts, 
and the poor mothers were clasping their children 
more closely to their breasts, praying that the 
good time might not be long delayed, when the 
sound of rapid footsteps fell on their ears. Some 
one was running toward the band of unhappy 

"Mr. Robinson," cried the excited Stephen 
Hopkins, "something is amiss; come this way." 

The pastor left the women and hurried to the 
tree under which his two companions stood. 

"Behold, here comes some one at full speed!" 

The eyes of the pastor were sharp, and pierced 
the darkness like an eagle's. He saw a familiar 


form running toward them. It was a slender young 
figure clad in the costume of a Pilgrim, save that 
he wore a green cap instead of the steeple-crowned 
hat. In his right hand he carried a sword, and 
one could have told by his flashing eye and 
agitated manner, that he was laboring under some 
great excitement. 

"Fly! fly! fly!" cried the young man, leaping 
to the side of Mr. Eobinson. "The king's horse 
are on you. Fly for your lives!" 

"Mathew," said Mr. Eobinson calmly. 

"Go, you have not a moment to lose." 

"We cannot go. All the boats are at the 

"There is one small boat on the beach," cried 
Hopkins. "Come, Mr. Eobinson, you must go, 
or they will hang you. You know the king's 

"Would you have us desert the women?" de- 
manded Eobinson. 

"They will not harm the women and children; 
but King James would hang you. " Then Stephen 
Hopkins and Edward Tilly laid hold of their pas- 
tor and by main force dragged him to the small 
boat lying on the beach. He was forced into it 
and rowed from the shore. Eealizing how power- 
less he was to aid the helpless and innocent, the 
good pastor burst into tears, crying: 


"The women and children! the women and 

" Never fear, " responded Mathew, who remained 
on shore, sword in hand. "I will protect the 
women and children." 

The boat reached the ship, the pastor was taken 
on board, and the captain, fearing that his vessel 
might be seized, set sail. Thus the Pilgrim 
Fathers quitted England for Holland. 

The young man who had given the warning was 
a daring fellow with dark eyes and masses of wav- 
ing hair hanging about his face. He was of 
medium height, possessing a form that seemed to 
defy fatigue, exposure, and disease. He was more 
of a cavalier than an English Puritan. It is need- 
less to say that he was brave; his actions had 
already established that fact. This young man 
was the Mathew, of whom Mr. Kobinson had 
spoken as being on guard on the heath. 

Mathew watched the small boat only a moment, 
and then, turning about, hastenecT to the women 
and children, who were giving utterance to the 
most piteous cries and lamentations. The body 
of horsemen came in sight, and could be seen 
dashing over the heath, spreading out to the right 
and left, like the wings of a great black 

Against that body of cavaliers was interposed 


the single arm of Mathew. He rushed at the head 
of the column, crying: 

"Back! back! back, tyrants, or you will rue 
this day's work!" 

"Prythee! whom have we here?" demanded the 
captain of the dragoons. 

" By the mass! it's a Puritan in arms," answered 
one of his lieutenants. "Marry! but he is a dar- 
ing fellow. With your consent, captain, I will 
cut the comb of this young cock." 

" Have a care that he does not prove too much 
for you." 

The lieutenant laughed, and, touching his 
horse's flank with his spur, leaped at the youth, 
aiming a downward blow with his heavy sabre, 
which Mathew easily parried, and next moment 
the point of his own blade rang against the horse- 
man's breast-plate. 

"Beware!" shouted the captain. The affair 
which he had hoped would not result in blood- 
shed, gave pnfinise of a tragical ending. 

"Away, tyrants!" cried the exasperated 

"He breathes treason!" shouted the angry lieu- 
tenant, directing a second blow at the youth's 
head, which he dexterously dodged, at the same 
time pricking the officer's horse with the point of 
his sword, causing the animal to leap so suddenly 



backward, that the officer lost his seat and fell 
headlong to the ground. 

In a moment Mathew's foot was on the breast of 
the .fallen man, and, turning defiantly on the 
horde which surrounded him, he cried: 

"Back! back, cpwards, or I will slay your 

The affair could have but one ending. It was 
valor thrown away. Mathew was surrounded by 
the host of cavalry, disarmed, and made a prisoner 
in much less time than we could describe th'e 
event. Being securely bound, he was carried 
away to the nearest village and lodged in a tem- 
porary prison, until he could be transferred to a 
more secure jail. 

Just as the boat containing Mr. Eobinson 
reached the ship, the horsemen seized on the help- 
less women and children who had not yet ven- 
tured on the surf. "Pitiful it was to see the 
heavy case of these poor women in their distress; 
what weeping and crying on every side!" Their 
only crime was that they would not part from their 
husbands and fathers. Their helpless condition 
appealed even to the stony hearts of their captors, 
and they were taken to the nearest hamlet and 
lodged in comfortable houses, until their case 
could be heard by the magistrates. 

The reader of this story is no doubt asking him- 


self why these defenceless women and children 
were seized by the king's troops. What crime 
had they committed that they could not leave 
their country? Their crime was daring to assert 
their rights to religious liberty. The student of 
history will bear in mind that there existed, about 
the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's reign, three 
powerful religious parties Roman Catholic, Ang- 
lican and Puritan crystallized into distinct sects 
and all struggling for supremacy. The first revolt 
against the mother church at Rome, led by 
Luther and Melancthon, only marked the begin- 
ning of an era of reformations. Once secession 
from the church had commenced once liberty of 
conscience had been established, and creeds almost 
innumerable sprang up, and have continued to 
spring up to this day. Among them was a class 
of Christians who, from the purity of their lives 
and the simplicity of their manners, were called 
Puritans. As is often the case, the epithet given 
in derision became respectable, and to-day the 
name of Puritan is venerated by the civilized 

The Puritans were fewer in number than either 
of their antagonists, but stronger in the moral 
power which asserts and defends the rights of 
man. They boldly declared the right of private 
judgment in religious matters to be inalienable, and 


that every human being was endowed with the 
natural privilege of worshipping God according to 
the dictates of conscience. Upon the same plat- 
form of principles they asserted the rights of the 
people to the enjoyment of civil freedom, doctrines 
very much at variance with the prevailing ideas of 
sovereignty in all the civilized world. The Puri- 
tan pulpits became the tribunes of the common 
people, and sometimes the preachers were bold 
enough to promulgate the democratic doctrine, so 
dangerous to the royal prerogative, that the sovereign 
was amenable to public opinion when fairly expressed. 
The Anglican Church still retained the Catholic 
ritual, and many of the leading clergymen opposed 
its use, and Bishop Hooper made Puritanism con- 
spicuous by refusing to be consecrated in the eccle- 
siastical vestments. Bishop Coverdale, and other 
high dignitaries at a little later period, refused to 
subscribe to the Liturgy and ceremonials, and so 
led the great army of nonconformists. The fears 
and jealousy of the queen resulted in the "Thirty- 
nine Articles of Religion of the Anglican Church," 
which were, by an act of Parliament, made the rule 
of faith and practice for all subjects of the realm. 
Whitgift, Archbishop of Canterbury, was com- 
manded to enforce discipline, upon which he issued 
his infamous instructions to the bishops, to " for- 
bid and prevent preaching, catechizing, and pray- 

Vol. 52 


ing in any private family in the presence of persons 
not belonging to it, and to silence all preachers 
and catechists who had not received orders from 
the Episcopal hands, or who refused or neglected to 
read the whole of the service or to wear the pre- 
scribed clerical habits, or to subscribe to the 
queen's supremacy, the Thirty-nine Articles, and 
the Book of Common Prayer." Despite all the 
persecution, Puritanism flourished and grew more 
rank, especially in secret. Ministers and congre- 
gations withdrew from the Anglican Church, and 
so acquired the name of Separatists or Indepen- 
dents. At the time of the death of Queen Elizabeth 
they numbered twenty thousand, and were the 
special objects for Whitgift's lash. Some of the 
ministers and their congregations, unable to endure 
the oppression, withdrew to Holland where there 
was religious freedom for all. 

On the ascension of James to the throne of 
England, it was hoped, as he was reputed to be a 
Presbyterian, that there would be some toleration; 
but, alas, they were doomed to a wretched disap- 
pointment. Soon after James was crowned, he 
called a conference at Hampton Court, in which 
he was the chief actor. At this conference the 
Puritan divines, some of them the most eminent 
scholars in the land, were annoyed by the coarse 
browbeating of the bishop of London, and the vul- 


gar jests of the king. A modern writer, in sum- 
ming up the verdict rendered by history on the 
character of King James, says : 

"He was cunning, covetous, wasteful, idle, 
drunken, greedy, dirty, cowardly, a great swearer, 
and the most conceited man on earth." 

Such was the character of the man under whose 
reign John Robinson and William Brewster, with 
their flocks, determined to emigrate to Holland, 
whither many had gone before them. And all this 
misery, this flight by night, capture and imprison- 
ment grew out of a difference of opinion as to 
serving the same God. The differences were said 
by Mr. Robinson to be " in some accidental cir- 
cumstances," such as: 

" Their ministers do pray with their heads 
covered; we uncovered. We choose none for 
governing elders, but such as are able to teach, 
which ability they do not require. Their elders 
and deacons are annual, or at most for two or 
three years; ours perpetual. Our elders do ad- 
minister their office in admonitions and ex-com- 
munications for public scandals, publicly and before 
the congregation; theirs more privately, and in 
their consistories. We do administer baptism only 
to such infants as whereof the one parent, at least, 
is of some church, which some of their churches 
do not observe; although in it our practice accords 


with their public confession and the judgment of 
the most learned among them." 

It might seem at first that these poor women and 
children were arrested on that dark March night, 
because they prayed with their heads uncovered. 
Such was not the fact. It was not so much mat- 
ters of religious conscience which made King James 
and his predecessor become the enemies of the 
Puritans, as the ideas of liberty which they boldly 

Some historians say that when an application 
was made to the king for a patent, under the 
"king's broad seal," for a church of Puritans, 
maintaining the liberty and power under God of 
choosing and ordaining their own ministers, the 
blustering monarch answered: 

" Give them a patent for such religion! They 
will be for choosing their king next. We will 
make them conform, or hang them; that is all." 

In the dark hours of persecution, Holland was 
very naturally looked to by the Puritans as the 
place where they might fully enjoy the liberty of 
conscience. In the controversy with Spain, Hol- 
land had displayed Eepublican virtues, and, in 
the reformation of the churches, had imitated the 
discipline of Calvin. In its greatest dangers, Hol- 
land had had England for its ally. At one time, 
it had almost become a part of the English 


dominions, and the "cautionary towns" were still 
garrisoned by English, regiments, some of which 
were friendly to the separatists. Thus the emi- 
grants were attracted to Holland, "where, they 
heard, was freedom of religion for all men." 

Next morning the women and children were 
arraigned before the blustering but good-natured 
old magistrate. He asked of what crime they 
were accused. Their only offence was that they 
would not part from their husbands and fathers. 

"I can see no crime in that," cried the magis- 
trate. "By the mass! they deserve commenda- 
tion for it. Send them to their homes." 

"We have no homes to go to," said a worthy 
matron of forty. 

"In truth, they have not," affirmed the execu- 
tive officer who had made the arrest. "Their 
protectors and husbands have gone to Holland. " 

The magistrates found that they had a burden 
on their hands which they were glad to get rid of 
on any terms, and the women and children were 
sent to join the Pilgrims at Holland. 

There was one who did not get off so easily. The 
handsome young Mathew was still in durance vile. 
His case was more serious, for he had resisted 
the officers of the king with force and arms. 
Many a man had been hung for a less offence. 
In his rude prison Mathew lingered, cheerful and 


unmoved by the awful doom with which he was 
threatened. It would have been hard to have 
determined Mathew's exact 
age. He might be twenty, 
and he might be twenty-five. 
His handsome face was de- 
cidedly youthful; but he 
had the courage and judg- 
ment of one of mature 
years. Though reared by 
Mr. John Eobinson in' the 
Puritanical faith, he was by 
no means Puritanical in ac- 
tion. He was impulsive, 
fiery, and daring as we have 
seen. He was a person to 
delight the romancer and 
poet. His heroic eye kin- 
dled more readily at the 
trump of battle than with 
the religious enthusiasm of 
a Pilgrim. He was more 
of a "knight of the Middle 
Ages, than a soldier of the 
Cross. Four days of con- 
finement in his impromptu 


prison failed to depress his spirits. 

The fifth day since his arrest was closing dark 


and stormy. The wild wind swept across the 
rainy sky and beat the tempest against his miser- 
able prison. It was not yet dark, when, from his 
narrow grated window, by which he had been tied, 
he espied a face looking at him. It was the 
sweet, childish face of a little maid of ten or 
twelve years. She gazed at him for a short time, 
her great blue eyes expressing the sympathy she 
felt for the captive, and then she asked: 

"How do you do?" 

"Badly enough, little maid," answered the 
young soldier. " I am deprived the liberty of my 
limbs, and they ache for the lack of exercise." 

"Do you want your liberty?" 

"Nothing would give me more pleasure; but 
you cannot set me free." 

"That I can," returned the little girl, with a 
smile on her pretty face. 

"Prythee, how will you go about it, seeing I 
am tied and the door is guarded?" 

She smiled, drew a bench under the window, 
mounted it, and, placing her lips close to the iron 
bars, whispered: 

"Peace, be still! Your guard is now at the 
ale-house across the way, drinking and making 
merry. The door is fastened by an iron bar on 
the outside, and while he enjoys his wine and 
song, I will give you your liberty." 


" Remember, sweet maid, I am tied hand and 

"I have that which will release thee," she an- 
swered, holding up to his gaze a bright-bladed 

Mathew nodded assent, and the face disappeared 
from the window. Such a long time elapsed, that 
he began to fear she had failed to open the door, 
when he heard a slight noise without. His heart 
beat high with hope. The great door softly 
opened, and a slender figure glided forward into 
the room. 

"Don't speak," said the child, "I know all. I 
heard that you were confined here, and my mother 
sympathizes with the Puritans. I came to release 

Her nimble fingers, aided by the keen knife, 
soon loosed the cords. He might thank his little 
deliverer that she had come before he was removed 
to- a more substantial prison, where these cords 
would have been supplanted with irons that would 
have defied her feeble strength and skill. In a 
moment he was free, and, turning to his small 
rescuer, he asked: 

"What is your name, sweet maid? I would 
know whom I have to thank for this deliverance." 

" I am Alice White, and I live with my mother 
in the village." 


"God bless you, Alice! I trust that I may 
some day be able to repay you for the great ser- 
vice you have rendered me." 

He stooped, imprinted a kiss on the pretty 
young cheek and hurried away into the darkness, 
while his guard made merry in the tap-room. Dis- 
guising himself, he hurried across the country and 
took passage for Holland, where he joined the Pil- 
grims who had gone before him. 



When the breezes are soft and the skies are fair, 
I steal an hour from study and care, 
And hie me away to the woodland scene, 
Where wanders the stream with its waters of green ; 
As if the bright fringe of the herbs on its brink, 
Had given their stain to the wave they drink ; 
And they whose meadows it murmurs through, 
Have named the stream from its own fair hue. 


ON a certain afternoon, in Holland, about the 
year 1617, the wind was blowing freshly, driving 
sundry black clouds across the slate-colored sky. 
The heavens were dreary to look upon ; the rocky 
and sandy coast, with its great dikes, offered no 
pleasing prospect, and the ocean, spreading away 
to the farthest limit of the vision, seemed a mass 
of foam. 

On this cheerless shore stood a small hut, which 
appeared to be the residence of a fisherman, if 
one might .judge from the nets and ropes lying on 
the sand, or hung upon the rocks along the dike. 
The building was constructed of round stones, 


rather peculiar in appearance, the stones being 
dark and the mortar that held them together of 
glaring whiteness. There was nothing in its archi- 
tecture calling for particular notice, except it might 
be a pile of stones resting on the roof, which was 
no doubt intended to be used as a chimney. The 
hut had one or two small windows and one large 
door. Wooden shutters hung before the windows. 
One was closed, keeping out the light and air, 
while the other was propped up by a stick, so 
that whoever was in the dwelling might enjoy a 
view of the lively ocean. The position of the 
little house was near the sea, with some sand and 
plenty of sea-weed lying between. Piles of rocks 
jutted boldly out into the water at a little distance, 
increasing the wildness of the scene. Back of the 
hut were some trees, which in the springtime of 
their existence did their best to grow, but, receiv- 
ing no encouragement, soon gave up the thought of 
ever becoming noble or lofty, and were content to 
undergo the heats of summer and the rigors of- 
winter in their stunted and ugly shapes. Without 
the hut was a rude bench fastened to the wall, where 
one might sit and gaze upon the ocean whose hol- 
low roar could be distinctly heard at the hut. 

One who knew anything of the Hollanders two 
centuries ago, need not be told that this was the 
home of a Dutchman. 


Two young men were coming leisurely along the 
strand which stretched away between the sea and 
the house. One was a Hollander. Though scarce 
four and twenty years of age, his short stature, 
strong frame, and general characteristics, marked 
him as a native of the Netherlands. His compan- 
ion's nationality was not so easily determined. In 
costume he was a Pilgrim ; but he had not the 
features of an Englishman. His cheek was almost 
swarthy, and the silken down which appeared on 
his upper lip was jet black. He had the bold air 
of a knight of mediaeval times, and was just such a 
figure as attract romantically inclined people. 

The hut toward which they were making their 
way was the home of the young Hollander. They 
were talking in the language of the Netherlands, 
which both spoke fluently. 

"Come, Mathew; -let us sit on the bench and 
rest," suggested the young Dutchman, who carried 
a broken net on his shoulder. "You have two 
good hours before setting out for Leyden." 

The young man addressed as Mathew was the 
same daring youth captured on the lonely heath in 
Lincolnshire while defending the Puritan women 
and children in 1608. Though almost nine years 
had elapsed there was little change in him. He 
did not look a day older than at the time of his 
arrest. His stately form was tireless, and his 


dark eye flashed with the fire of a soldier. More 
to please his friend than from any desire to rest, he 
accepted the invitation to sit on the bench in front 
of the hut, and for a long time they sat silently 
listening to the sullen roar of the distant sea. The 
young Hollander, whose name was Hans Van 
Brunt, was the first to break the silence. When 
he spoke it was with the freedom of a near and 
dear friend. 

" So, Mathew, you Puritans are going away from 
Leydcn. You do seem hard to please. First you 
come from England to Amsterdam, and after a 
short sojourn remove to Leyden; now your pastor 
and elders contemplate removing to America." 

"They will go if they can, Hans." 

"Will they go as English or Dutch emigrants?" 


"Wherefore as English, seeing that you were 
banished from your native land?" 

With a shake of his head, Mathew solemnly 
answered : 

" The love of country is too deeply planted in 
the Englishman's heart to be easily effaced. True, 
our king and the bishops have ill-used us; never- 
theless, we cannot forget that we are Englishmen." 

Hans gazed at his companion for a moment, 
then, with his elbows resting on his knees, gazed 
on the ground. Hans was a characteristic Hoi- 


lander, sturdy, honest, thoughtful, good-natured, 
slow. Though brave as a lion, he never quarrelled ; 
for him there was never occasion for quarrel. His 
blonde hair, blue eyes, and ruddy cheeks were quite 
in contrast with the dark-brown hair and eyes of 
his companion. Hans was thinking, and he 
thought slowly. -After about five minutes, the 
brief argument which he had been evolving in his 
mind was ready for expression, and he said: 

" We have a goodly country on the great river 
discovered by the Englishman, Hudson. Our 
West India Company would be glad to send you 
there, wherefore do you not go?" 

With a sigh, Mathew answered: 

"We are Englishmen, and love of country can- 
not be crushed from our hearts." 

After another silence of five minutes, during 
which time Hans with his characteristic slowness 
was arranging his argument, he asked: 

" Why should you go? You are no Englishman !" 

Mathew turned quickly on his companion to see 
if he was jesting. No; Hans was in earnest. 
Gravely he repeated, "No, you are no English- 

" How do you know?" asked Mathew. 

"I have heard your story told by one who 
knows. " 

"Mr. Robinson?" 



" I have always been taught to regard him as a 
relative, and he has been all to me that a father 

"Yet not a drop of the same blood courses in 
your veins; you are of another nation. You are 
a Spaniard." 

Mathew Stevens started from the bench, walked 
a short distance and, returning, resumed his seat. 
He had heard vague hints of this before, so he was 
not taken wholly by surprise. Mr. Robinson had 
never told him the story of his life. Mathew had 
lived in careless ease, with an occasional period of 
excitement; but as yet he had given little thought 
to either the past or the future. 

"No; you are not an Englishman, but a Span- 
iard," continued Hans with his characteristic slow- 
ness. "Why not live in Holland, take you a wife 
among the maidens of Leyden or Amsterdam and 
go with us to the New Netherland ?" 

"Are you going, Hans?" asked Mathew. 

" Certainly, I shall. I don't want to leave 
Katharine; yet we are poor, and there is a great 
future for young people in the new world. I sup- 
pose I shall go first, build us a home, and then 
send for her." 

The young Dutchman took as much delight in 
talking of his plans for the future, as a school-girl 


does of her first lover. Hans would have gone on 
for hours sounding the praises of Katharine; but 
Mathew was in no mood to listen to him. Some 
of the young fellow's remarks had set him think- 
ing of himself, and when Hans sought to win back 
his interest by changing the subject to Honora Van 
Twiller, who had smiled on Mathew, he failed. 

"When the hour for his departure came, he 
declined the mug of wine which Hans' mother 
offered him, and hastened away to Leyden. 

The pastor of the Pilgrims, Mr. John Robinson, 
was in his study that evening when Mathew en- 
tered. Mr. Robinson raised his mild eyes from 
the sacred volume over which he was poring and 
fixed them on the troubled face of the young man. 

"I have had a rumor confirmed to-day," said 

"Pray what is it?" 

"That the same blood does not flow in our 
veins; that I am not an Englishman, but a 
Spaniard. Is it true?" 

For a moment silence pervaded the room, and 
then Mr. Robinson, in his deep impressive voice, 

"It is true." 

"Why have you not told me before?" 

"For the reason that I knew nothing to tell. 
That you are of Spanish birth I have good reason to 


believe. That there is nothing in your parentage 
which should cause you to blush, I am assured, 
and yet I have no positive knowledge of anything." 

"Will you tell me what you know of my 
history ?" 

" At some time, but not now, for there are other 
matters which I wish to discuss with you. Our 
people realize that they are pilgrims, sojourning in 
the land of strangers. We can never again regard 
England as an abiding place, yet we cannot become 
other than Englishmen. Oar children are being 
gradually weaned from the course in which we 
would have them trained. We have this day 
decided to send John Carver and Robert Cushman 
to treat with the Virginia Company for planting a 
colony of Pilgrims within their domain." 

"When do they start?" 

" Day after to-morrow." 

"I would go with them." 

"Would you dare return to England?" 

"Why should I not?" 

"Your capture, your escape?" 

" Among the ten thousand other events which 
have transpired since then, it is surely forgotten." 

"Do you wish to go?" 

"I do; I also want to become one of the first 
emigrants to the New World." 

"You shall." 

Vol. 53 


Arrangements were consequently made for 
Mathew to - accompany the two agents of the Pil- 
grims to confer with the Virginia Company. 

It will lead to a better -understanding of our 
story, at this point, to notice some of the general 
events transpiring in the new world. The career 
of maritime discovery had been pursued with 
intrepidity and rewarded with success. The voy- 
ages of Gosnold, Waymouth, Smith, and Hudson; 
the enterprise of Kaleigh, Delaware, and Gorges; 
the compilations of Eden, Willes, and Hakluyt had 
filled the commercial world with wonder. Calvin- 
ists of the French Church had vainly sought to 
plant themselves in Brazil, in Carolina, and with 
De Montes in Acadia; while weighty reasons, often 
and seriously discussed, inclined the Pilgrims to 
change their abode. They had been bred to pur- 
suits of husbandry, and in Holland they were com- 
pelled to learn mechanical trades. Brewster became 
a teacher of English and a printer. Bradford, who 
had been brought up a farmer, learned the art of 
silk-dyeing. The language never became pleas- 
antly familiar; in fact, but few ever learned to 
speak it, and the manners and customs of the 
Dutch were not entirely congenial to their strict 
Puritanic ideas of morality. The Pilgrims lived as 
men in exile. Many of their English "friends 
and relatives would not come to them, or departed 


from them weeping." "Their continual labors 
with other crosses and sorrows, left them in danger 
to scatter and sink." "Their children, sharing 
their burdens, bowed under the weight, and were 
becoming decrepit in early youth." Conscious of 
ability to act a higher part in the great drama of 
humanity, they were moved by "a hope and 
inward zeal of advancing the gospel of the king- 
dom of Christ in the remote parts of the New 
World; yea, though they should be but as 
stepping stones unto others for performing so great 
a work." 

The proprietors for the patent of North Vir- 
ginia, Lord Chief-Justice Popham, Sir Ferdinand 
Gorges and others (sometimes called the Plymouth 
Company, as those of the south were called the 
London Company), in 1608 attempted a settle- 
ment at the North which utterly failed. These 
men, after a few unsuccessful efforts, gave up all 
thought of planting any colony in their dominions. 

In the year 1614, Captain John Smith, the 
founder of Jamestown and the father of Virginia, 
sailed along the coast in company with Captain 
Thomas Hunt, who commanded one of the vessels. 
Hunt was more of a pirate than an explorer, and, 
in opposition to Smith's express commands, kid- 
napped a number of the Indians, took them to 
Europe and sold them as slaves. It was on this 


voyage that Captain Smith first named that portion 
of North America New England, which name it 
bears to this day. In the year 1617, when the 
Pilgrims first set on foot the plan for removal to 
America, a great plague visited New England, and 
swept away thousands upon thousands of natives, 
as if the way were being prepared to plant the doc- 
trine of liberty in the New World. 

Upon their talk of removal, many persons of 
note among the Dutch sought to have them emigrate 
under them, and made them some splendid propo- 
sitions; but the Pilgrims were attached to their 
nationality as Englishmen, and to the language of 
their line. A secret, but deeply seated love of 
country led them to the generous purpose of recov- 
ering the protection of England by enlarging her 
dominions, and a consciousness of their worth 
cheered them on to make a settlement of their own. 
They were restless with a desire to live once more 
under the government of their native land. 

Whither should they go to acquire a province 
under King James? The fertility and wealth of 
Guiana had been painted in dazzling colors by 
Raleigh; but the terrors of a tropical climate, the 
wavering pretensions of England, the soil, and the 
proximity of the bigoted Catholics, led them to 
look toward -'the most northern parts of Virginia, 
hoping, under the general government of that 


province," to live in a distinct body to themselves. 
To obtain the consent of the London Company, 
Mr. John Carver and Mr. Eobert Cushman had 
been chosen, as Mr. Eobinson stated, to go to 

Mathew Stevens went with Carver and Cushman 
to England. They took with them seven articles 
from the members of the Church at Leyden, to 
submit to the council in England for Virginia. 
The articles discussed the relations which the Pil- 
grims bore to their prince; and they adopted the 
theory which the admonitions of Luther and a cen- 
tury of persecution had developed as the common 
rule of plebeian secretaries on the continent of 
Europe. They expressed their concurrence in the 
creed of the Anglican Church, and a desire of 
spiritual communion with its members. Toward 
the king and all civil authority derived from him, 
including bishops, whose civil authority they alone 
recognized, they promised, as they would have 
done to Nero and the Roman pontifex, "obedience 
in all things, active if the thing commanded be 
not against God's word, or passive if it be." They 
denied all power to ecclesiastical bodies, unless it 
were by the temporal magistrate. They pledged 
themselves to honor their superiors, and to preserve 
unity of spirit in peace with all men. 
. "Divers select gentlemen of the council for 



Virginia were well satisfied with their statement, 
and resolved to set forward their desire." The 
London Company listened very willingly to their 
proposal, so that the agents found "God going 
along with them" and, through the influence of 
"Sir Edwin Sandys, a religious gentleman then 
living, a patent might at once have been taken, 
had not the envoys desired to consult with their 
friends at Ley den." 

It was the fifteenth of December, 1617, before 
the Pilgrims transmitted their formal request, 
signed by the hands of the greater part of the con- 
gregation. "We are well weaned," added Mr. 
Kobinson and Brewster, "from the delicate milk 
of our mother country, and inured to the difficul- 
ties of a strange land. The people are industrious 
and frugal. We are knit together as a body in a 
most sacred covenant of the Lord, of the violation 
whereof we make great conscience, and by virtue, 
whereof we hold ourselves straitly tied to all care 
of each other's good, and of the whole. It is not 
with us as with men whom small things can 

The messengers of the Pilgrims, satisfied with 
their reception by the Virginia Company, petitioned 
the king for liberty of religion, to be confirmed 
under the king's broad seal; but here they encoun- 
tered insurmountable difficulties. Lord Bacon, of 


all men at that time, had given most attention to 
colonial enterprises. The great master of specula- 
tive wisdom should have inculcated freedom of con- 
science; but for that, he knew too little of religion. 
He believed that the established church, which he 
cherished as the eye of England, was not without 
blemish; that the wrongs of the Puritans could 
neither be dissembled nor excused; that the silenc- 
ing of ministers, for the sake of enforcing cere- 
monies, was, in the scarcity of good preachers, a 
punishment that lighted on the people, and he 
esteemed controversy " the wind by which truth is 

Bacon, however, was formed for meditation not 
for action. His will was feeble, and, having no 
power of resistance, and yet an incessant yearning 
for distinction and display, he became a craven 
courtier and an intolerant and corrupt statesman. 

"Discipline by bishops," said he, "is fitted for 
monarchy of all others. The tenets of separatists 
and sectaries are full of schism, inconsistent with 
monarchy. The king will beware of Anabaptists, 
Brownists, and others of their kinds; a little con- 
nivency sets them on fire. For the discipline of the 
church in colonies, it will be necessary that it agree 
with that which is settled in England, else it will 
make a schism and a rent in Christ's coat, which 
must be seamless, and, to that purpose, it will be 


fit that the king's supreme power in causes eccle- 
siastical, within all his dominions, be subordinate 
under some bishop and his bishoprick of this realm. 
This caution is to be observed, that if any trans- 
plant themselves into plantations abroad, who are 
known as schismatics, outlaws, or criminal persons, 
they be sent for back upon the first notice." 

These views were, of course, detrimental to the 
ideas of the Pilgrims, and the ambassadors began 
to despair. The maxims prevailed at the coun- 
cil-board, when the envoys from the independent 
church at Leyden preferred their request. 

"Who shall make your ministers?" was asked 
of them, to which Carver answered: 

"The power of making them is in the Church." 

His avowal of the principle that ordination 
requires no bishop threatened to spoil all. To 
advance the dominions of England, King James 
esteemed "a good and honest motion, and fishing 
was an honest trade, the apostle's own calling;" 
yet he referred the suit to the prelate of Canterbury 
and London. Even while negotiations were pend- 
ing, a royal declaration constrained the Puritans of 
Lancashire to conform or leave the realm, and 
nothing more could be obtained for the wilds of 
America than an informal neglect. On this the 
community relied, being advised not to entangle 
themselves with the bishops. 


"If there should afterward be a purpose to 
wrong us," they argued, "though we had a seal as 
broad as a barn floor, there would be means enough 
found to recall it or reverse it. We must rest 
herein on God's providence." 

It was on the second visit of the envoys to 
England, in 1618, that Mathew Stevens met with a 
singular, and what at first threatened to be a dan- 
gerous adventure, yet it had a happy ending. One 
afternoon, while walking about the streets of Lon- 
don, he came face to face with a man, who paused 
directly before him, and, placing his hands on his 
hips, gave him an impudent stare. The stranger 
was by no means prepossessing. His head was 
bullet shaped, his face round and bloated, his 
small eyes grayish and wicked. His short beard 
was slightly flecked with grey. He was attired in 
the habiliments of a mechanic, and though he was 
a total stranger, there seemed to be something 
about him that was familiar. 

For a moment he fixed his eyes on the young 
man, and then, in a coarse, brutal voice, exclaimed: 

"Ho! youngster, we meet again. By the mass! 
ten years have made no change in ye." 

"Away! I never knew you," cried Mathew. 

" Ten years is too short a time to efface from 
my recollection a certain little affair with which ye 
were connected." 


"You mistake. I repeat, I never knew you!" 

" I can refresh yer memory. Do ye remember 
the dark night on the heath in Lincolnshire, when 
the Pilgrims departed for Holland?" 

Mathew started, and his cheeks flushed. 

"Aha! ye do remember, I see. I was one of 
the king's horse on that night. I it was, who 
was appointed to guard ye, and while draining a 
glass at the tap-room, thinking ye secure, by some 
means ye made yer escape; then I, Francis Billing- 
ton, did fare badly. I was sent to prison for neglect 
of duty, and lost my place in the king's horse." 

Billington had a fiendish grin on his face, and 
his eyes blazed with the hatred of a demon. 
"Know ye the vow I made?" asked the ex- 
dragoon. "I swore that should I ever find ye 
again, I would seize ye and drag ye before the 
magistrate, that ye might suffer as ye caused me." 
With this he took a step toward Mathew. 

"Away!" cried Mathew. " You are no officer, 
and I will not submit to an arrest." 

Billington made a bound at the young man, and 
attempted to seize him by the throat. He was 
met by a blow in the face which staggered him, 
and before he could sufficiently recover to call the 
watch, Mathew Stevens darted away, and was 
hurrying from street to street, and alley to alley to 
bury himself in the great city. 


As evening came, he found himself in the 
suburbs of London, to-day known as West End. 
The West End of two hundred and fifty years ago 
was far from being the West End of to-day. 
Hurrying along a lane, he espied a light in a cot- 
tage. The cottage was cozy and homelike in 
appearance, and appealed to his tastes, so he deter- 
mined to apply for shelter. To his timid knock 
there came a light footstep, and the door opened. 
He entered and, by the light of the wax candle, 
found himself in a small but neatly furnished 
room. He saw not the room, nor the surround- 
ings, for the face of the maiden who held the candle 
absorbed all his attention. A flood of recollection, 
mingled with the bright dreams of the last ten 
years swept over him. Ten years had changed him 
but little. Ten years had transferred the child 
rescuer to a most lovely woman. It was the same 
sweet, pretty face, but matured to beautiful and 
glorious womanhood. After a moment of bewil- 
derment, he gasped: 


"I know you, "she answered. "I have not for- 
gotten you." 

"And I would be guilty of the basest ingrati- 
tude, did I ever forget you," he returned. 

In a few moments they were seated before the 
cheerful peat fire, pleasantly conversing of the 



past. Mathew learned that Alice was tlie only 
child of a widow, Sarah White. He lingered 
several days at the widow's cottage, unable to tear 
himself away. The envoys had long since returned 


to Holland, and when he finally took his leave for 
Leyden, the face of Alice was so firmly engraven 
on his heart that time could never efface it. 
Mathew Stevens was in love. 



The grand old ship, so staunch and true, 
One autumn day with breezes free, 
Sailed on and on, sailed out to sea, 

Mid dancing waves and skies of blue ; 

And fair as diamonds kissed with dew, 

Shone sparkling eyes of lovely hue. 


"IT is always darkest before dawn." Often 
when on the verge of despair, when all hope is 
abandoned, relief comes from an unexpected quar- 
ter, and the poor, disheartened pilgrim on earth is 
elevated to joy almost supreme. If, at the close 
of 1618, it seemed impossible for the Pilgrims 
ever to make terms with their countrymen for 
establishing a colony in the New World, a year 
later found the obstacles to the enterprise rapi lly 
rolling away. Sir Edwin Sandys, a stanch friend, 
had been elected treasurer of the London Company. 
Under him, so writes one of their number, the 
members of the company in open court " demanded 
our ends of going; which, being related, they 



said the thing was of God, and granted a large 
patent." As the patent was taken in the name 
of one who failed to accompany the expedition, it 
was never of any service; and, besides, the Pil- 
grims, after investing all their own means, had not 
sufficient capital to execute their schemes. 

It seemed as if, after all, their plans must fall 
through. In this dire extremity, Mr. Eobinson 
began to look for aid to the Dutch. He and his 
people and their friends, to the number of four 
hundred families, professed themselves inclined to 
emigrate to the country on the Hudson and to 
plant a new commonwealth under the command of 
the Stadholder and the States-general. The West 
India Company was willing to transport them with- 
out charge, and to furnish them with cattle, if 
"that people would go under them." The direc- 
tors petitioned the States-general to promise protec- 
tion to the enterprise against all violence from other 
potentates; but such a promise was contrary to 
the policy of the Dutch government and was 

The members of the church at Leyden were not 
shaken in their purpose of removing to America, 
and, ceasing "to meddle with the Dutch, or to 
depend too much on the Virginia Company," they 
trusted to their own resources and the aid of pri- 
vate friends. The fisheries had commended Ameri- 


can expeditions to English merchants; and the 
agents from Ley den were able to form a partner- 
ship between their employers and men of business 
in London. The services of each emigrant were 
rated as a capital of ten pounds, and belonged to 
the company. All profits were to be reserved till 
the end of seven years, when the whole amount 
and all houses and lands, gardens and fields were to 
be divided among the share-holders according to 
their respective interests. The London merchant, 
who risked one hundred pounds, would receive for 
his money tenfold more than the penniless laborer 
for his services. This arrangement was a seven 
years' check to the pecuniary prosperity of the com- 
munity; yet, as it did not interfere with their civil 
rights or religion, it did not intimidate them. 
Meanwhile, the noblemen and gentlemen engaged 
before in the old patent for North Virginia were 
seeking a new and separate patent of incorporation 
for New England, under the style and title of the 
council established at Plymouth, in the county of 
Devon, for the planting, ruling or ordering and 
governing of New England in America, which be- 
came the civil basis of all future patents and plan- 
tations that divided that country. This patent they 
at last obtained from King James; but it was not 
signed by the king until long after the Pilgrims 
had set sail, not, indeed, until November 3d, 1620, 


just before the Mayflower anchored in Cape Cod 
harbor. Thus the Pilgrims were landed in New 
England unchartered by any earthly power, and 
took possession at Plymouth of their desired retreat 
in the wilderness, in full liberty of conscience, 
unpatented and unfettered. 

It was the evening before the departure from 
Ley den. Mr. Eobinson was in his study with 
Mathew Stevens. It had been decided that Mr. 
Brewster, the ruling elder, should go with the emi- 
grating Pilgrims, and Mr. Robinson, the pastor, 
was to remain at Leyden with the congregation. 
Mathew Stevens had decided to go with the first, 
and begin building a home which . he hoped to 
share with Alice White. 

" I go to-morrow to brave the dangers of the 
ocean and unknown perils of the wilderness," said 
Stevens to Mr. Robinson. "Perchance we may 
never meet again, and I beseech you to tell me 
now the story of my life." 

"I have detained you, Mathew, to narrate as 
much of it as I know." 

The young Puritan was all attention, and the 
pastor began: 

"It was early in the year, 1587, that I chanced 
to be in Plymouth. Sir Francis Drake had just 
returned from the West Indies from one of his 
piratical expeditions. It had been one of his most 


brilliant voyages. He had sacked towns and hum- 
bled a nation by 'singeing the beard of the Spanish 
king,' that is, burning the royal fleet in their own 
harbor. He had ravaged the West Indies and 
sailed up the coast of Florida, reducing every 
Spanish fort he could find. Among the cities 
destroyed was St. Augustine, founded by Melen- 
dez fifty-five years before. From one who had 
been on board the admiral's ship, I learned that he 
had brought two little boys from St. Augustine. 
From their dress and manner it was supposed that 
they were children of respectable parents. I be- 
came so interested in them that one day I went to 
see them. The oldest was a bright little fellow, 
not over five or six years of age, but with the 
intelligence of one twice as old. He could only 
converse in Spanish and we had a very poor inter- 
preter. I learned, however, that his father's name 
was Francisco Estevan, that his mother's name was 
Hortense, and that the parents were temporarily 
from home when Brake attacked the town. The 
boy, Philip Estevan, was your brother. Mattheo 
Estevan (Mathew Stevens in English) was yourself. 
<c Drake was anxious to dispose of the children, 
as well as an old chest taken at their house, which 
contained a manuscript written evidently by your 
father, which seemed to be a sort of an autobi- 
ography. For any one who would pay the passage 

Vol. 54 


of the boys, and ten pounds for the old chest, 
Drake agreed to turn over the children. I lacked 
a few pounds of having the required amount, and 
went to London to borrow some from some friends. 
When I returned, Philip, your brother, had been 
taken away by a man named Henry Francis. 
Though I made many inquiries for him, I only 
learned that he sailed away in a vessel to some 
part of the New World. I paid the price of your 
voyage, gave ten pounds for the old chest and con- 
tents, and took you to live with me. . The old chest 
and the strange Spanish manuscript, I sent on 
board the Speedwell. They may, I trust, prove the 
key for unlocking your past." 

"Do you know no more?" asked Mathew. 

"Nothing. I have endeavored to learn all I 
could, but have been unable to find out anything 
more. I have ever endeavored to fill the place of 
the father you lost." 

"And you have," Mathew quickly answered. 

Next day was the memorable 21st of July, 1620, 
the day on which the English voyagers left Ley- 
den, where they had lived for nearly twelve years, 
and were accompanied by their brethren to Delph- 
haven where their ship lay ready to sail. Many of 
their friends came from Leyden and Amsterdam to 
take a last farewell of the departing emigrants. 
Among others came Hans Van Brunt, accompanied 


by his "peerless Katherine," to bid a last adieu to 
his friend Mathew Stevens and assure him that he 
would soon be able to join him and the other Pil- 
grims in the New World. Next day, July 22d, 
1620, the wind was fair, and the Pilgrims went 
aboard, accompanied by a great number of their 
friends. Mathew Stevens did not leave Holland 
without some regrets. It had proved an asylum 
for himself and his friends when persecutions forced 
them to abandon their own country. His foster 
father, Mr. Robinson, embraced him and with tears 

"My son, I commend you to God; ever trust 
him in your darkest hours." 

Before leaving the ship, Mr. Robinson kneeled 
upon the deck, and offered up a most fervent 
prayer, which the most skeptical could hardly 
claim did not reach the throne of grace. Then the 
good pastor, as if anticipating their high destiny 
and the sublime lessons of liberty which would 
grow out of their religious tenets, gave them a 
farewell, breathing a freedom of opinion and an 
independence of authority such as to them were 
hardly known in the world. 

"I charge you, before God and his blessed 
angels, that you follow me no further than you see 
me follow the Lord Jesus Christ. The Lord has 
more truth yet to break forth of his holy word. I 


cannot sufficiently bewail the condition of the re- 
formed churches, who are come to a period in 
religion, and will go at present no further than the 
instruments of their reformation. Luther and Cal- 
vin were great and shining lights in their times; 
yet they penetrated not into the whole counsel of 
God. I beseech you, remember it 'tis an article 
of your church covenant, that you be ready to 
receive whatever truth shall be made known to 
you from the written word of God." 

A prosperous gale was blowing and the master 
of the ship was anxious to sail. Mr. Robinson 
and those designed to remain took a last farewell 
of the emigrants and went on shore. Before leav- 
ing the ship, he once more clasped Mathew's hand 
and murmured a fervent "God bless you!" 

With a fair breeze they reached Southampton. 
Mr. Reinolds, the master of the Speedwell, said 
that the ship was leaking and that he doubted if 
she would be able to cross the Atlantic; but 
others urged that she could make the voyage. At 
Southampton, they found the Mayflower from 
London, Mr. Jones master, with the remainder of 
the company, who had been waiting there with Mr. 
Cushman for seven days. All was bustle, confu- 
sion and eagerness to sail. The excitement and 
adventure promised in pushing out into new and 
unexplored regions thrilled and electrified the emi- 


grant. New scenes, new hopes and aspirations, 
with unknown and untried possibilities, lent a sort 
of speculative enchantment to the very idea of 
emigration. Seven hundred pounds sterling were 
invested at Southampton for tools, farming imple- 
ments, arms and ammunition, and they had seven- 
teen hundred pounds to carry with them. Mr. 
Weston came from London to see them well on 
their voyage. 

Mathew Stevens hurried on board the May- 
flower, hoping to find Alice "White aboard the 
ship. Mrs. White was a Puritan, and had ex- 
pressed her intention to go to the New World. 
Whether she intended going with the first that 
sailed, or waiting until a settlement had been 
established, Mathew was not certain. Beaching 
the deck of the Mayflower, Mathew was hurrying 
to the after part of the ship, when he suddenly 
encountered a person who caused him to start 
back in alarm. That bullet head, those small, 
mischievous eyes and round, bloated face covered 
with stubby beard, he could never forget. It was 
Francis Billington, his former captor and jailer. 
The malignant grin on his evil face revealed his 
ugly teeth, blackened with tobacco smoke and 

"Well, comrade, are we bound on the same 
voyage?" Billington asked, after the momentary 


surprise at the first meeting had somewhat sub- 

"Why are you here?" asked the astounded 

"Have no fear, mate; have no fear. True, ye 
handled me rather roughly in London; but I for- 
give ye, seeing we are to be comrades in adven- 
turing into the New "World." 

"Are you going to America?" 

" Right ye are, if ye say as much. Let us bury 
all differences and be friends." 

As he spoke, Billington advanced, with one 
dirty, bloated hand outstretched, as if to make 
peace with his enemy. 

"No! no! I never knew you," cried Mathew, 
placing his hands behind his back. "You are 
not a Pilgrim, but one of our persecutors, and you 
have no right on board." 

" Wherefore would ye deny me the privilege of 
visiting that goodly country?". 

Mathew did not care to hold a conversation with 
him and, turning abruptly around, walked to the 
foremost part of the ship, where he found Mr. 
Cushman with Mr. Weston. 

"How came the man Billington aboard?" 
Mathew asked. 

For a moment both were silent, and then Mr. 
Cushman answered: 


" He smuggled his way aboard before we left 
London. Do you know aught of him?" 

" Only that if he be not a knave, his face greatly 
belies him." 

"If you have only his face to accuse him, there 
maybe room for mistake," put in Mr. Weston; 
but neither Mr. Weston nor Mr. Cushman were 
prepossessed with the man. 

"1 will warrant that he is an arrant knave," said 
the latter. 

"So will I," added Mathew. 

"Have you ever met him before?" Mr. Weston 

"I have," answered Mathew. 


" First on that dark and gloomy night when the 
women and children were arrested at Lincolnshire, 
in 1608." 

"Was he there?" 

"He was one of the captors and afterward 
became my guard, from whom I escaped. Only 
two years ago, he tried to arrest me in London and 
carry me back to Lincolnshire; but I struck him 
and escaped. I believe he is one whom we would 
do well to rid ourselves of." 

All the while, the basilisk eyes of Francis Bil- 
lington were watching the youth, while a frown of 
displeasure gathered on his hideous face. The bad 


morals of the Billingtons, father and son, were 
destined to occasion more anxiety to the Pilgrim 
Fathers than all other members of the colony. 
They were the tares sown with the wheat. No 
company, however carefully selected, can be free 
from the evils of the human race. As an evi- 
dence of what an alarming hold sin has upon the 
children of men, Christ selected but twelve to 
be his apostles, and there was a Judas among 

Mathew knew not that the murderous eyes of 
the villain were on him, and that his ears drank 
in every word he said. When he turned from Mr. 
Cushman and descended into a boat to go ashore, 
the cunning gray eyes followed him. He was 
wandering about the town, when, in a dark and 
unfrequented alley, he suddenly and most unex- 
pectedly encountered Francis Billington. 

"I heard what ye said," Billington remarked in 
a voice which trembled with suppressed passion. 
" Ye would malign me to the officers of the colony. 
Have I not offered ye my friendship?" 

Mathew turned away with loathing and disgust. 
The friendship of such a man as Billington was 
not a thing to be desired. He instinctively hated 
the monster. 

" So ye will not speak with me?" snarled Billing- 
ton, and, leaping at the young man, he seized his 



arm. "By the mass! ye shall be more agree- 

The blood in Mathew's veins seemed all on fire, 
and, turning quickly about, he struck him a blow 
with his clenched fist, which sent him sprawling to 
the ground. In a moment the angry man regained 
his feet and, whipping out his dagger, leaped at 
his adversary ; but Mathew, who was full as quick 
as he, met him with drawn 
sword and, by a dexterous 
understroke, disarmed his 

"Neatly done ! quite 
neatly done! " cried an 
honest voice near. 

The combatants paused 
and gazed in astonishment 
at a man who had come 
upon the scene. He was 
about thirty-five years of 
age, short of stature, but strongly built, clad in 
doublet and hose and boots of cordovan leather. 
He also wore a sword at his side. It was more 
the sword of a warrior than a gentleman, for the 
strong blade had seen hard service. The look of 
admiration which overspread his face at witnessing 
the young Spaniard's skill was strong evidence 
that he appreciated a good swordsman. 



"Neatly done, by the mass!" the stranger re- 
peated. "Nor could you be blamed if you ran 
him through." 

Billington heard this unpleasant remark, and, 
realizing that the tables were turned, picked up 
his dagger and slunk away. When he was gone 
the stranger, who had been a witness of the scene, 
came to Mathew, and, taking his hand, added : 

" I admire your skill ! Tell me your name, for 
brave men in England are not so plentiful in these 
latter days that one need not know all." 

Though covered with confusion at this bit of 
flattery, Mathew answered: 

"I am Mathew Stevens, and have lived with Mr. 
Robinson at Leyden." 

"You are a Pilgrim?" 

"I am." 

" Do you go in the Mayflower?" 

"I sail in the Speedwell." 

"I regret it is not the Mayflower, for I belong to 
that vessel." 


"Are you a Puritan?" 

"No; I am a soldier; but my sympathies are 
with the Puritans. My name is Miles Standish, 
who, returning from the wars in Flanders, joined 
the Pilgrims. I remember seeing the knave you 
so recently punished on our way from London." 

"He would go to America." 


" It will not be a lucky day for the colony when 
Francis Billington becomes a member of it. Such 
a man would destroy the harmony of the entire 

Mathew Stevens and Miles Standish at once be- 
came fast friends. The young Spaniard also 
formed the acquaintance of John Alden, a young 
cooper from London, who was a friend of Captain 

As for Billington, he disappeared in some man- 
ner, and there were many among the Pilgrims who 
hoped that he would not join them again. 

On the 27th of July, Mr. Carver received a letter 
from Mr. Eobinson. Many others also received 
letters from friends, among them being a missive 
from honest Hans to Mathew, wishing him a safe 
voyage and assuring him that he and Katherine 
would some day be citizens of the Dutch posses- 
sions on the Hudson. On this day the Pilgrims 
were distributed in the two ships, and, with the 
consent of the masters, or captains, chose a governor 
and two assistants for each, "to order the people 
and provisions." 

On the fifth of August they set sail from South- 
ampton ; but before they had gone five leagues Mr. 
Reinolds, commander of the Speediuell, complained 
that his ship was leaking, and he dared not go any 
further. Both of the vessels were therefore com- 


pelled to put into Dartmouth about August 13th, 
1620. Here the vessel was overhauled, and it 
was supposed the leaks were all stopped. On the 
21st of August they set sail from Dartmouth. 
Mathew Stevens, who was still aboard the Speed- 
well, now hoped that she would make the voyage; 
but in this he and all the others were disappointed. 
They had not gone above a hundred leagues from 
Landsend, England, when the master of the Speed- 
well again discovered that his ship was leaking. 
When Mathew' s attention was called to the fact, 
he asked: 

"Can we not stop it?" 

"Not at sea; we must return or sink," the mas- 
ter declared. " We can hardly free her by con- 
stant pumping." 

Consequently both vessels put back to Plym- 
outh, and the Speedwell was again overhauled, 
"where, finding no defect, they judged her leaki- 
ness owing to her general weakness." They there- 
fore decided to abandon the Speedwell as unsea- 
worthy, and all those who were willing might return 
to London in her. It was very discouraging to 
the Pilgrims, especially Mr. Cushman, whom they 
were compelled to leave behind. 

Mathew Stevens and the heavy oak chest, with 
the few relics it contained, were taken aboard the 
Mayflower. He immediately renewed his ac- 


quaintance with Captain Miles Standish, his good 
wife, Rose Standish, and their friend, John Alden. 

On the 6th of September, after another sad 
parting, the Mayflower set sail alone on her 
memorable voyage, bearing on board the germs of 
a mighty commonwealth. They were scarcely well 
at sea, when they were struck by a sudden storm 
and cross winds, which for days forced them to 
sail under bare poles. 

It was on the third night at sea, when the storm 
was raging fiercely, that Mathew Stevens, who was 
on deck, became conscious of the near proximity 
of some disagreeable object. He knew not who or 
what it was; but of one thing he was certain, and 
that was that he had a strong aversion for it. He 
saw a dark form at his side; but the ship's lantern 
swaying at the mizzen was too far away to reveal 
the features of the man. The heavens were at 
this moment illuminated by a blaze of electrical 
fire, revealing to his astonished gaze the shrinking 
form of Francis Billington. 

"Why did you come?" cried Mathew, seizing 
him by the shoulder. 

"My good friend, would ye throw me over- 

"No; but why did you come?" 

"I want to begin a new life in a new world," 
and with these words he slunk away to his quarters. 


For several days they were unable to carry any 
sail, the vessel's uppers were very leaky, and a 
main beam lost its place and struck her in the mid- 
ships, which so alarmed the Pilgrims, that the 
principal men of the company began to discuss 
with the captain of the Mayflower, the propriety 
of returning to England. Mathew, however, 
declared that he was carpenter enough to remedy 
the wrong. He had brought a large screw with 
him from Holland, and by means of it they raised 
the beam to its place. 

On November 6th, William Butten, a servant 
of Mr. Fuller, died; this was the only death during 
the voyage. 

At daybreak on the 9th of November, after a 
long and tempestuous voyage, they came in sight 
of land at Cape Cod. They stood southward. So 
little did they know of the coast that they expected 
to find some place about the Hudson River for a 
settlement; but in the course of a few hours they 
found themselves among dangerous shoals, and 
were compelled to return to the cape harbor, where 
they rode in safety. 

On the llth of November, they determined to 
seek a location in New England. Their design 
and patent, however, being for Virginia and not 
New England, which belonged to another jurisdic- 
tion, with which the Virginia Company had no 


concern, they decided before landing tbat they 
would this day combine themselves into a body 
politic by a solemn compact, to which they set their 
hands, as the basis of their government in this new- 
found country, which was as follows, word for word : 

IN THE NAME OF GOD, AMEN. We, whose names are 
here underwritten, the loyal subjects of our dread sover- 
eign lord, King James, by the grace of God, of Great 
Britain, France, and Ireland, defender of the faith, hav- 
ing undertaken, for the glory of God, and advancement of 
the Christian faith, and honor of our king and country, a 
voyage to plant the first colony in the northern part of 
Virginia, do by these presents solemnly and mutually m 
the presence of God and one another, covenant and com- 
bine ourselve's together into a civil body politic, for our 
better ordering and preservation, and furtherance of the 
ends aforesaid; and by virtue hereof to enact, constitute, 
und frame such just and equal laws, ordinances, acts, con- 
stitutions, and offices, from time to time, as shall be 
thought most mete and convenient for the general good of 
the colony, unto which we promise all due submission 
and obedience. In witness whereof we have hereunder 
subscribed our names. Cape Cod, llth November, in the 
y>ar of the reign of our sovereign lord King James of 
England, France, and Ireland, 18, and of Scotland 54, 
A\no Domini, 1620. 

Mr. John Carver, Stephen Hopkins, 

Mr. William Brewster, Francis Cook, 
John Alden, John Ridgdale, 

Mr. Wm. Mullins, Francis Eaton, 

Mr. John Howland, Mr. Edward Winslow, 

John Tilly, Capt. Miles Standish, 

Thomas Tinker, Mr. Christopher Martin, 

John Turner, Mr. Richard Warren, 

William Bradford, Edward Tilly, 

Mr. Isaac Allerton, Thomas Rodgers, 

Mr. Samuel Fuller, Edward Fuller, 

Mr. Wm. White, James Chilton. 


Francis Billington, not being a Pilgrim, and 
having already shown a spirit at rebellion with 
God and man. was not permitted to enter into the 
compact. There was a warm discussion as to 
whether Mathew Stevens should not also become 
a partner to it. Captain Miles Standish and John 
Alden favored his being a charter member, but 
Fuller and Winslow opposed it on account of his 
Spanish blood and supposed Catholic ancestry. 

At this period in the world's history, the Span- 
iards were heartily hated by the English, and not- 
withstanding Mathew had been carefully brought 
up by their beloved pastor, he had the blood of the 
Spaniard in his veins, and was known to possess 
the fiery nature of a son of the tropics, consequently 
his name does not appear in the compact. 



The breaking waves dashed high 

On a stern and rock -bound coast, 
And the woods against a stormy sky 

Their giant branches tossed ; 
And the heavy night hung dark, 

The hills and waters o'er, 
When a band of exiles moored their bark 

On the wild New England shore. 


WOOD, the only fuel used on the Mayflower, 
was exhausted, and on the day that the compact 
was signed, it was decided to send some of the 
men ashore to gather fuel. Mathew Stevens vol- 
unteered to lead the party into the forest, so he 
landed with fifteen others, all well armed, with the 
double purpose of exploring the shore and bringing 
in wood. They discovered that they were on a 
small neck of land. On the side where their vessel 
lay was the bay, and on the farther side the sea. 
The soil and sand-hills were something like the 
Downs of Holland, though much more fertile. 
Holes, sunk into the earth to the depth of three 

Vol. 55 


or four feet, revealed excellent black earth. The 
shore was all wooded with oaks, pines, sassafras, 
juniper, birch, holly, vines, some ash and walnut. 
The trees were large, stately and almost free from 
underbrush, so that one could drive a cart through 
the forest; but not a sign of a person or a habita- 
tion could be seen, and at night they returned with 
a boat load of sweet smelling juniper wood. 

On the 13th of November, the Pilgrims un- 
shipped their shallop and drew it on land to re- 
pair some damages it had sustained, for they had 
been forced to cut it down in stowing it between 
decks. From strains received during the voyage, 
the seams of the shallop also had been started, and 
it took the carpenter sixteen or seventeen days to 
repair it. The Pilgrims, wearied with their long 
confinement on shipboard, went ashore to refresh 
themselves, and the women to w r ash their clothes. 
While waiting for the carpenter to finish his work 
on the shallop, some of the Pilgrims determined 
to set out by land and explore the country for a 
place suitable for the location of the town. Mr. 
Winslow argued that there was a harbor near the 
mouth of a river. 

The proposed expedition was looked upon as 
dangerous, and was permitted rather than approved 
by the leading men of the Pilgrims. With 
cautious directions and instructions, sixteen men, 


among whom were Mathew Stevens and John Al- 
den, armed with muskets, swords, and corselets, set 
out under Captain Miles Standish. To the sixteen 
were added, as counsellors and advisers, William 
Bradford, Stephen Hopkins, and Edward Tilly. 

On Wednesday, November 15th, this party was 
set on shore, and, forming in single file, with Cap- 
tain Standish in front, and Mathew Stevens next, 
began the march into the wilderness. They had 
not gone over a mile, when Mathew Stevens, who 
had been sent ahead a few rods to reconnoitre, sud- 
denly halted and said: 

"I see five or six people with a dog, coming 
toward us." 

The people could be plainly seen by all, and 
the Englishmen asked each other the very impor- 
tant question: 

"Who are they?" 

"Perchance, it is Mr. Jones, the master, and 
some of the sailors," suggested Miles Standish. 
"They are on shore and know of our coming." 

The Pilgrims continued to advance toward the 
strangers until they were themselves discovered, 
and then they, proving to be savages, turned about 
and ran away into the wood, whistling to their dog 
to come after them. Miles Standish, soldier-like, 
determined to make a bold advance. Command- 
ing his men to quicken their pace, they hurried 


after the Indians, lest others should lie in am- 
bush. When the Indians saw the whites following 
them, they ran. away at full speed, disappearing 
over some hills, and the Pilgrims turned out of the 
wood after them and followed their trail for about 
ten miles. The ground was soft and the footprints 
made a trail easy to follow. During the afternoon, 
Mathew pointed out an Indian spy on the hill 
watching them. 

Night came and the Pilgrim band, now in a vast 
and unknown wilderness, went into camp, kindled 
a watch fire and set three sentinels. Next morn- 
ing, the 16th of November, as soon as it was light, 
they set out once mere on the Indians' trail and 
followed it until they reached the head of a creek, 
where the Indians entered another forest. Miles 
Standish and his party, hoping to come upon some 
of their dwellings, followed after them; but, 
though they marched over hills and through val- 
leys, forcing their way through jungles and thorns, 
which almost tore their armor to pieces, they found 
no natives, habitations, nor fresh water of which 
they so much stood in need; for they had brought 
neither beer nor water with them, and their only 
provisions were biscuit, Holland cheese, and a 
small bottle of aquavitas. They were suffering 
with thirst; but all the water they had so far found 
was brackish and unfit to drink. 


About ten o'clock they came to a deep valley, 
full of brush-wood and long grass. Little paths 
led about all through it, no doubt having been 
made by wild animals going to and fro in search 
of water. At last they came upon a clear, cold, 
fresh spring. A wild deer was drinking at it and 
Mathew raised his gun to shoot it; but Captain 
Standish forbade his doing so. 

" The report of your gun would give notice to the 
Indians that we are here," the captain argued. The 
deer ran away, and the Pilgrims, gathering about 
the spring, knelt down and tasted the clear, cold, 
sweet New England spring- water for the first time. 

When they had slaked their thirst and refreshed 
themselves with a short rest, they directed their 
course south that they might come to the shore, 
which they did in a short time and, according to 
previous arrangements, built a fire, that the ship 
might know where they were. They then contin- 
ued their march toward the supposed river and en- 
tered another valley in which was a fine, clear pond 
of fresh water. About the pond was a dense jun- 
gle of tall grass and vines, haunted by the wild deer 
and fowls. Journeying a mile or so further, they 
came upon a spot of about fifty acres of ground, 
which bore evidences of cultivation, and there could 
be no doubt that Indians had planted corn there 
the year before. 


A little further on, they came upon heaps of 
sand, which they were convinced had been made 
by human hands. One of the heaps was covered 
with mats, and had a wooden mortar on the top of 
it, with an earthen pot laid in a little hole at the 
end. After some discussion it was decided to dig 
into the heap which they had found. By doing so 
they came upon a bow and some arrows. 

"Evidently it is the grave of an Indian," re- 
marked Mr. Bradford. "We will not disturb 
them, for it would be odious unto the savages to 
ransack their sepulchres." 

Advancing still further, they came upon some 
new corn-stalks from which the corn had been gath- 
ered, and many walnut trees full of nuts. They 
passed two fields and came to a third in which a 
house had been, and where four or fiVe planks 
placed together still lay. Here they found a great 
kettle, which evidently had belonged to some ship. 
A new heap of sand also attracted their attention, 
and digging into it they found an old basket full 
of Indian corn. By digging a little further they 
came upon a large Indian basket filled with beauti- 
ful Indian corn in the ear. Some was yellow, 
some red, and the grains of others were mixed 
with blue. It was a very welcome sight to the 
Pilgrims, for the com would furnish them with 
food for some time. A sentry was placed about 


the heaps of buried treasure while they searched 
for more. They placed the corn in the kettle to 
take to their shallop, intending, if their owners 
came, to return the kettle and satisfy them for the 

Loaded with their cereal treasure, they resumed 
their march and had not gone far, before they 
came upon the ruins of an old fort, which Miles 
Standish said had been built by Christians, as it 
was undoubtedly of European structure. Near 
this place they came to what they thought to be a 
river, but which they found to be two arms of the 
sea, divided by high banks. Here also they dis- 
covered two Indian canoes, one on each side of the 

Leaving further discovery to the shallop, they 
went back to the fresh water pond, and, building 
a great camp fire, made a barricade to windward 
and kept a good watch with three sentinels all 
night, every one standing as his turn came, with 
five or six inches of match in his gun burning. 

It rained nearly all night. Next morning, 
November 17th, as the kettle was very heavy, 
they sank it in the pond, trimmed their muskets, 
for some of them had become damaged with the 
rain and damp, and started along the coast toward 
the Mayflower. 

"Marry! What be this?" asked Miles Stan- 


dish, suddenly halting where a young sprout was 
bent over a bough, and some acorns were under- 
neath. " That never grew in such a shape." 

"It is some device to catch deer," answered 
Stephen Hopkins. They were all standing look- 
ing at it, when William Bradford, who had been 
lingering behind came up. 

" What do you gaze at?" he asked. 

"This strange contrivance," answered Hopkins. 

At this William Bradford kicked it with his 
foot, and immediately up sprang the bush and a 
rope formed like a noose caught him by the leg. 

"Help! Help me out! 'Tis a trap, a trap!" 
cried Mr. Bradford, struggling to free himself. 

It was a cunning device, made with a rope of 
the Indians' own construction, and having a noose 
as artistically constructed as any ropemaker in 
England could have done. When Mr. Bradford's 
leg was jerked up in the air, he was thrown down 
upon the ground, and they hastened to his relief. 
After he was released, they left the wood and went 
a mile above the creek where they saw three bucks. 
Mathew Stevens shot one of them. Some of them 
having a fowling-piece killed three brace of par- 
tridges. Great flocks of wild geese and ducks were 
seen along the water; but they were so shy that 
the explorers could not get near enough for a shot. 
They journeyed on, sometimes in the wood, some- 


times on the sandy beach, and a part of the time 
wading in water up to their knees, until they came 
in sight of the - Mayflower. They fired their 
pieces to attract the attention of the ship, and a 


few moments later they saw the long boat put out 
for them. Mr. Carver and Captain Jones with 
others, being on shore in the woods near, came to 
meet them. 

The Pilgrims, weary with their long tramp, were 


glad to be once more on board the Mayflower* 
which, after all, was a haven of rest compared 
with the wild, desolate shore of New England. 
The shallop was hardly completed before, another 
expedition was planned. 

On the 27th day of November, twenty-four Pil- 
grims under Miles Standish, among whom was 
Mathew Stevens, were appointed to make a more 
complete discovery of the shore. To the twenty- 
four armed Pilgrims, Captain Jones added ten 
sailors including himself. In order to gratify the 
master of the ship, he was made their leader. 
They set out in the shallop and long boat; but the 
weather was so rough that they were compelled to 
row to the nearest shore and wade out into the 
water, which came above their knees. The wind 
was so strong that they were forced to take the 
shallop into the harbor for that night; though they 
marched six or seven miles further, leaving orders 
that the shallop should come up as soon as she 
could. The wind blew, the snow fell, and it was 
freezing cold. According to the journal of the 
Pilgrims, "some of the people that died took the 
original of their death here." 

Next day, the 29th of November, the shallop 
came up, all went aboard, and, the weather being 
fair, sailed to the river they had formerly dis- 
covered, which they named "Cold Harbor." 


Although it was not navigable for ships, they 
thought their boats might ride there in safety. 

Miles Standish, with twenty men, landed and 
marched some four or five miles, while the shallop 
followed up the creek. Night came, and the men, 
wearied with marching through the forests, over 
rugged hills and stony valleys covered a foot deep 
with snow, were anxious to go into camp. Cap- 
tain Jones, unaccustomed to such toil on land, de- 
clared that he would go no further, though Miles 
Standish and Mathew Stevens wanted to press on 
a few miles further. They halted under a large 
pine tree, built a great watch fire, and all gathered 
round it. 

Just at night, Mathew and John Alden went to 
a pond and shot three fat geese and six ducks, 
which made a good supper for the hungry soldiers. 
Next morning, November 29th, they were de- 
terred from going up the river on account of the 
high hills, so they turned toward the other creek 
and went over to look for a spot to rest, as well 
as for the corn which they had left behind when 
there before. When they reached the creek, 
they found the canoe lying on the dry ground, and 
a flock of geese in the river. Mathew fired his 
gun and killed a couple of them. Mathew and 
John Alden launched the canoe and brought in the 
dead geese; after which they carried the rest of 


the party over the river seven or eight at a time. 
Having landed on the other side, they once more 
went to Corn Hill, or the place where they had 
formerly found corn and, by digging, found more. 

In another mound was found a bottle of oil and 
more corn, in a third were three baskets full of 
Indian wheat, and a bag of beans. "While some 
were unearthing the beans and wheat, others dis- 
covered more corn buried in the sand, so they took 
out in all about ten bushels, enough to furnish 
seed for the whole colony. The ground at this 
time was frozen so hard that they were compelled 
to cut down into it a foot or more with their swords. 

Captain Jones grew uneasy at the threatening 
aspect of the weather, and was anxious to return 
to his ship. For several days the captain had been 
insisting that the Pilgrims select a location so that 
he might sail to England. 

Captain Jones, with Billington, the sailors, and 
some of the others, returned to the vessel; but 
eighteen, including Bradford, Standish, and Ste- 
vens remained on shore with instructions that the 
shallop might come to them the next day and bring 
them mattocks and spades. 

Next day, November 30th, they followed a 
well-beaten Indian path, supposing that it would 
lead them to some Indian town or house. As they 
advanced, the path grew broader and showed evi- 


denees of Laving been recently travelled. Miles 
Standish halted his men and addressed to them a 
few words of caution. 

"We are not far from the natives. Whether 
they will meet us friendly or otherwise we know 
not; but I deem it expedient to be prepared for 
the worst, so light your matches." 

This precaution proved unnecessary, however, 
for the path proved to be only a deer path, made 
by the Indians on their hunts. No houses were 
found, nor signs of people, and, returning another 
way, they found a mound which looked like a 
grave, though much longer and larger. It was 
covered with boards. After a long deliberation, 
they resolved to dig into it, and, doing so, they 
found first a mat and under it, a bow and then 
another mat, and under that a board, finely carved 
and painted with three tin brooches on the top, 
like a crown. Between the mats were found 
bowls, trays and dishes and like trinkets. At 
last they came to a new mat and under that two 
bundles, " the one bigger, the other less." Open- 
ing the larger bundle they found in it a great 
quantity of fine red powder, and the bones and 
skull of a man. The skull had fine yellow hair 
still on it and some of the flesh unconsumed. 
There was bound up with it a knife, a packing 
needle, and t w *o or three old iron things. It was 



bound up in a sailor's canvas cassock and a pair 
of cloth breeches. The red powder was a kind 
of balm, yielding a pungent but not offensive 
odor. The "lesser bundle" on being opened con- 
tained more red powder and the bones of a little 
child. About the legs and other parts of it were 
found strings and bracelets of fine white beads. 
There was also by it a little bow, three-quarters of 
a yard long, and some odd toys. The Pilgrims 
carried away many of the things, but covered up 
the skeleton again. Though other mounds were 
searched, no more corn was found. 

There was a long discussion and a variety of 
opinions among them about the embalmed 
person. Mr. Bradford 
thought it was an In- 
dian lord or king; 
but Miles Standish 
argued : 

" Indians all have 
long, black hair, and 
never was one seen 
with brown or yellow 
hair. It is more likely 
a Christian of some special note, who died among 
them, and was thus buried in honor." 

" More likely they killed him, and did it in tri- 
umph over him," put in Mathew Stevens. 



While roving about, they espied two houses 
which had been recently occupied: but the people 
were now gone. The houses were made of long 
poles, or young sapling trees bent and both ends 
stuck in the ground. They were arbor-shaped, 
and covered down to the ground with thick and 
well made mats, and the door, not over a yard 
high, consisted of a mat hung so it would open. 
A wide open hole in the top marked the place 
where the smoke escaped. The houses were high 
enough for a tall man to stand erect within them. 
They were made of wicker-work, or matting, so 
completely and neatly that they turned rain as 
well as the best English roof. In the houses were 
found wooden bowls, trays and dishes, earthen 
pots, hand baskets, made of crab shells wrought 
together, also an English bucket. There were 
many baskets, large and small, fine and plain. 

Two or three deer heads were found in one of 
the houses, one of them having been but recently 
killed. They also found parched acorns, dried 
fish, and broiled herring. Some venison was also 
found, but in such a bad state of decomposition, 
that they were compelled to throw it away. 

They took some of the best things, but left the 
houses, and then, it being late and the tide being 
almost out, hastened to their boat. 

"Why not make this our abiding place?" sug- 


gested Mr. Bradford. "I believe it best, because, 
first, there is a convenient harbor for boats, 
though not for ships." 

"Secondly," put in Mathew, "there is good 
corn -ground ready to our hands, as we saw by 
experience in the goodly corn it yielded, which 
will again agree with the ground, and be natural 
seed for the same." 

"Thirdly," added Mr. Winslow, "Cape Cod is 
like to be a place of good fishing, for we saw daily 
great whales of the best kind for oil and bone come 
close to our . ship, and in fair weather they swim 
and play about us. There was once one, when 
the sun shone warm, that came and lay above 
water, as if he had been dead for a good while to- 
gether, within half a musket-shot of our ship." 

As a fourth argument, Miles Standish, with a 
military eye to the situation, added his reason: 

"The place is likely to be healthful, secure, and 

The most special reason for making it their abid- 
ing place was that they were in the midst of 
winter, and unseasonable weather was come upon 
them, so that coasting for a more suitable place 
was dangerous. Cold and exposure was telling on 
the constitutions of the stoutest of the Pilgrims, 
for scarcely any of them were free from vehement 


Some of the party wanted to go to Augu-um, 
or Agoum (Aggawam, Ipswich), twenty leagues 
north, which they had heard possessed an excellent 
harbor for ships, better ground and better fishing. 
There might also be better water near. The water 
they had found was only in ponds and must be 
carried up a steep hill. After much discussion on 
the matter, it was decided to make some location 
within the bay. When they returned to the ship, 
Robert Coppin, the pilot, told them of a great navi- 
gable river and good harbor in the other headland 
of the bay, almost over against Cape Cod, being in 
a right line, but not more than eight leagues 
distant. He had once been in this harbor, and 
thought it the best place for planting on all the 

While a third expedition was getting ready to 
pet out to explore this land, Mrs. White gave birth 
to a male child, which was named Peregrine. On 
the same day, John Billington, son of Francis 
Billington, who with his father had sneaked aboard 
the vessel at London, very nearly blew up the May- 
flower. John, like his father, was incorrigible. 
He was the dread of the ship, and in open rebel- 
lion to all laws. Though but ten or twelve years 
of age, he stole a fowling-piece, and went to the 
cabin to learn how to load and fire. He succeeded 
in loading it and lighting the match, when the gun 

Vol. 56 


was accidentally discharged, scattering the fire over 
the floor. 

The report was heard on deck, and Mr. Brad- 
ford cried: 

"Who hath blown up the ship?" 

Mathew ran to the cabin and beheld the young 
imp with the gun in his hand and some bits of 
burning tow lying within a few inches of the keg 
of powder. Eealizing the danger, he extinguished 
the fire and snatched the gun from the hands of 
the precocious youth. 

"Young knave! would you blow up the ship?" 
he cried. 

"Beware how ye harm me!" cried John Bil- 
lington. " My father will deal hard with ye for 

Francis Billington, when he heard what had 
been done, muttered some threats under his 
breath; but he dared not do the young Spaniard 
any harm openly, for the Pilgrims were his friends. 
In an ordinary situation, Billington had every- 
thing necessary to make him what is convention- 
ally called a worthy citizen. At the same time, 
certain circumstances being given, certain shocks 
stirring up his nature from the bottom, he had 
everything requisite to make him a villain. He 
had been a member of the dragoons, then a shop- 
keeper, but there always slumbered within him a 


monster. Satan at times crouched in a corner of 
the lair where Billington lived. 

Watching Mathew with his basilisk eyes, he 
murmured under his dark teeth : 

"I can bide my time; but you shall pay my 
vengeance with usury." 

On Wednesday, December 6th, 1620, Captain 
Miles Standish and Mathew Stevens, with the fol- 
lowing men, set out in search of a place suitable 
for planting: Master Carver, William Bradford, 
Edward Winslow, John Tilly, Edward Tilly, John 
Rowland, Richard Warren, Stephen Hopkins and 
Edward Dotey, also two sailors, John Allerton and 
Thomas English, with Masters Clarke and Coppin. 
On the 7th of December, they sent eight of their 
company in the shallop and the rest by land to dis- 
cover the place recommended by the pilot; but 
they found it to be only a bay without either river 
or creek flowing into it; yet they thought it as 
good as Cape Cod, for a ship might ride in five 
fathoms of water. The land was level, but none 
of the most fruitful. Here also were found 
streams of running water. Some Indians were 
discovered cutting up a large fish called a gram- 
pus. They attempted to speak with them; but 
they ran away into the woods, where, by following 
them, they found an Indian house. A little far- 
ther on, the Pilgrims came upon an Indian bury- 


ing-ground in which were many graves; but 
though they found many evidences of the dead 
there were no signs of the living. On their way, 
they found in some mounds Indian corn; but it 
was evidently more than a year old. In the 
course of their wanderings, they came upon four 
or five Indian houses like those they had seen at 
Corn Hill. Night was coming on, and they sig- 
nalled the shallop to stand in to shore for them. 
They decided, however, to pass the night on shore 
by a big watch fire, as it was very cold. Sentries 
were set, and Mathevv Stevens, worn out with his 
long tramp, lay down by the side of Miles Standish 
to sleep. It was midnight, and the young Span- 
iard was lost in the mazes of a troubled dream, in 
which Francis Billington seemed threatening the 
life of Alice White. lie heard the clash of arms 
and the confused cry of human voices, mingled 
with the report of guns. Some one seized him and 
jerked him to his feet. 

"Awake! awake! if you would not be slain in 
your sleep!" cried the voice of Miles Standish in 
his ear. At the same time one of the sentries fired 
a musket, and shouted: 

"Awake! arm! arm!" 

The Pilgrims seized their arms, and sprang be- 
hind trees. The woods glowed with burning 
matches, but after a few moments the noise ceased, 


and some one declared it was only a pack of wolves; 
so the camp once more sought repose. 

Next morning they were astir before daylight, 
and, fearing their guns were damp, they fired 
them in the air. After prayers they ate breakfast 
and began to prepare for their journey. It was 
not yet daylight when they began carrying their 
rugs, mats, and cooking utensils to the shallop. 

"Let us take our armor also," suggested Mr. 

"I will not take mine until I go myself," re- 
turned Miles Standish, who was loading his snap- 
hance gun, the only flint-lock in the company. 
Captain Standish was a cautious soldier and ever 
prepared against surprise. The water was yet low, 
and those who carried their arms and armor to the 
beach were unable to reach the shallop, so they 
were compelled to lay them on the sand. 

The brightening twilight had grown to a sober 
gray, when the air was suddenly rent with the 
most horrible cry that ever fell on human ears. 
Mathew, who had gone a short distance up the 
hill, came running back crying: 

"They are men! Indians! Indians!" 

The twang of bow-strings and whiz of arrows 
too truly confirmed what he had said. 

"Fly to your arms!" cried Captain Miles Stan- 
dish, cocking his flint-lock gun, and running up 


the hill to meet the enemy. Half a dozen dark 
forms came flitting forward like the shadows of 
fiends in the woods. Raising his gun, Captain 
Standish fired. By this time Mathew had his 
match lighted, and, wheeling about, took aim and 
fired at one of those advancing forms. But four 
men were now left in the camp to defend it, and 
Captain Standish called: 

"Don't fire until you can make sure of your 
aim. Those at the shallop will defend it, have no 

Three of the men at the shallop discharged their 
guns at long range, and another asked for a fire- 
brand with which to light their matches. Mathew 
took a log, one end of which was burning, on his 
shoulder and ran amid a shower of arrows to his 
friends on the beach. One lusty Indian from be- 
hind a tree discharged five arrows at him. 
Mathew stooped when he discharged the first 
arrow, and it went over his head. Three muskets 
had been fired at. this fellow, and Mathew, reload- 
ing his gun, took deliberate aim at him and fired. 
The savage with a yell fled, and all his followers 
imitated his example. The Pilgrims supposed 
from the noise they made, that there must be 
about thirty of them. Entering the shallop, they 
went to the harbor. The next day, the 10th being 
the Sabbath, they rested; but on the llth of De- 


cember, 1620, after sounding the harbor, the Pil- 
grims rowed ashore, and their bark touched the 
famous stone known all over the world as " Plym- 
outh Kock." The harbor was "found good for 
shipping." According to their journal: "We 
also marched into the land and found divers corn- 
fields and little running brooks, a place very good 
for situation, so we returned to our r.hip again 
with the good news to the rest of our people, which 
did much to comfort their hearts." The May- 
flower, after many difficulties and dangers, was 
brought into the harbor. 

We need say nothing of Plymouth Kock. His- 
torian, poet and romancer have enshrined it in 
imperishable lines. It is familiar to every school- 
boy. Our story deals with only a few of those 
sturdy people of God who made the stone famous, 
and we will conclude this chapter at Plymouth 



His home was a freezing cabin, 

Too bare for a hungry rat, 
Its roof thatched with rugged grass, 

And bald enough at that ; 
The hole that served for a casement 

Was glazed with an ancient hat ; 
And the ice was gently thawing 

From the log whereon he sat. 


ON Friday, December the 15th, the Mayflower 
weighed anchor to sail into the harbor they had 
discovered; but, owing to a strong head-wind, they 
did not reach the harbor until next day. The 
Pilgrims were delighted with the harbor, which 
Mr. Bradford declared was larger than Cape Cod, 
" compassed with a goodly land, and in the bay two 
fine islands uninhabited, wherein are nothing but 
wood, oaks, pines, walnut, beech, sassafras, vines, 
and other trees which we know not. This bay is 
a most hopeful place; innumerable store of fowl, 
and excellent good, and cannot but be of fish in 



their season. Skate, cod, turbot, and herring, we 
have tasted of; abundance of wassels, the greatest 
and best that we ever saw; crabs and lobsters, in 
their infinite." 

The 17th being the Sabbath, the Pilgrims re- 
mained on board the Mayflower, and Mr. Brew- 
ster preached a sermon, and the day was passed in 
prayer and thanksgiving. On Monday the 18th, 
Miles Standish, with John Alden and a party of 
fifteen, including Captain Jones and four sailors, 
went ashore and marched some seven or eight miles 
along the coast, but saw neither Indians nor habi- 
tations, though they found an old Indian corn- 
field. They found the soil very rich, with pines, 
walnuts, and oaks growing, and, while there were 
no great rivers, they discovered four or five small 
brooks emptying into the sea. They found evi- 
dences of many herbs, among them the strawberry 
leaves innumerable, sorrel, wild onions, and other 
wild vegetables. Next day they made further ex- 
plorations and found a creek, which they ascended 
three English miles. It proved to be a very pleas- 
ant stream in which at full tide a bark of thirty 
tons might ride in safety. They were strongly 
inclined to locate at this place; but it was thought 
to be too far from their fishing, and surrounded by 
a dark wood which might afford shelter for an 
enemy. Some of them suggested that, as a matter 


of safety, they build their colony on a large island, 
inaccessible save by water. 

That night they returned on shipboard, resolved 
on the morrow to settle on one of the three loca- 
tions. Next morning, after invoking the aid of 
God in their choice, they went ashore to view the 
two places on main land. After landing and view- 
ing them, they decided on the spot at which they 
had first landed, where there was a bit of high 
ground, an old Indian cornfield, and a considerable 
amount of land already cleared. The murmur- 
ing brooks and delightful springs furnished them 
with an abundance of sweet water. On the 22d, a 
storm raged all day, and they did not go ashore 
until Saturday. Then Mathew, Standish, Brad- 
ford and twelve or fifteen more landed and began 
cutting down great trees and clearing the ground 
for buildings. On Sunday they rested from their 
toils; but on Monday the 2>th they again resumed 
their work. Billington, who was idly roving far 
inland, returned and reported that he had heard 
the sound of Indians. 

The Pilgrims first began the construction of 
what they called a platform, a sort of fort for their 
ordnance, where they might command both the 
shore and bay, "and might be easier impaled hav- 
ing two rows of houses and a fair street." 

That morning they took an enumeration of the 


families, giving to single men who had no wives 
the privilege to join with any family they saw 
fit, so as few houses as possible would have to 
be constructed. The whole colony was thus re- 
duced to nineteen families. Mathew Stevens, hav- 
ing been specially recommended to the charge of 
Mr. Brewster by his foster father, Mr. Robinson, 
decided of course to become one of the family of 
the ruling elder. John Alden accepted a place in 
the household of his friend, Captain Miles Standish. 
Despite the discouraging rains and cold weather, 
they prepared to go to work. During the last 
days of December they discovered smoke some dis- 
tance away in the forest which they knew to be 
from the fires of the Indians, and their uneasiness 
was increased. 

On Monday, January, 1st, 1621, the Pilgrims 
went to work in earnest, and the ring of axes and 
crash of falling trees, with the rasping of whip-saws 
and the ripping up of the logs into lumber, for the 
first time awoke the sleeping echoes of the old for- 
est. On Wednesday, the fourth day of the New 
Year, as Mathew and Alden went abroad to gather 
material for thatching the houses, they saw the 
smoke of Indian fires, and next day Captain Stan- 
dish, with Mathew Stevens, John Alden, and 
Francis Billington went to search the country for 
the fires. They found some deserted wigwams, 


but no Indians. On their return, Mathew Stevens 
shot and killed an American eagle. On Monday, 
the 8th of January, Francis Billington reported 
that he had discovered from the top of a high tree 
a great sea, and, with a sailor, set out to find it; 
but the great sea proved to be only some lakes. 

It was decided, after building their town house, 
or platform, which was to serve the purposes of 
both fort and church, that, in order to expedite 
matters, each man should build his own house. 
They worked whenever the weather would allow. 
About a week after they had commenced the con- 
struction of their private dwellings, two of their 
men became lost, and the colony was wild with 
alarm. Captain Standish sent- Mathew Stevens 
and a dozen armed men in search of them. While 
they were gone the missing men returned. Just 
at their return the town house was fired by a spark, 
and they came very near to losing all they had 
done; but the damage was not great, and they 
bravely set to work to repair it. They built a 
common shed to put their provisions under, as 
some of it already had been sent ashore. 

On the 19th of December, John Goodman, who 
was lame from a frosted foot, was roaming about 
the hill above the settlement accompanied only by 
a dog, when he was beset by a pair of wolves. 
The dog took shelter between his legs, and he 


fought tlie wolves off with a stick, yelling and 
shouting to keep them at bay. Stevens was 
working near and, hearing the cries, snatehed his 
gun and ran to Goodman's assistance. The wolves 
saw him coming and, realizing that there was 
danger, fled. 

When the shed was completed and their provis- 
ions were placed under it, they resumed work on 
their dwelling houses. Such as were sick and un- 
able to build their own houses had to wait until 
their friends made them. Exposure had already 
begun to tell on the rugged natures of the Pilgrims. 
Many were sick, and before they had been three 
months in New England, twenty signers to the 
Mayflower compact had died. 

On the morning of the 31st of January, Captain 
Jones and some of the sailors on the deck of the 
Mayflower, saw two savages on an island near the 
ship. They tried to speak with them; but the In- 
dians disappeared. 

On shore the Pilgrims continued their work, 
frequently interrupted by storms of rain, hail, and 
snow. On February 16th, Mathew Stevens went 
out into the forest for some game and had just 
taken up a station among some reeds and bushes 
near the creek, about a mile and a half from the 
plantation, when there passed by him twelve In- 
dians, going toward their settlement. The match 


in his gun was lighted and the pan thrown open, yet 
he dared not fire, for discovery was death. He 
could only kill one or two at most, and the others 
would fall upon and slay him. He heard the 
voices of many others in the woods, so he knew 
that the twelve were not all. Filled with a thou- 
sand dreads, he lay close until they passed, then 
ran home to warn his friends. Those who were at 
work in the fields and woods came home to arm 
themselves. While Miles Standish and Francis 
Cook came for their guns, the Indians stole their 

Affairs had come to such a pass, that a military 
organization was necessary, and on Saturday, Feb- 
ruary 17th, a meeting was called for that purpose. 
Francis Billington, who was ambitious, was a can- 
didate for commander of the slender forces of the 
Pilgrims, citing his services as a member of the 
king's horse as a qualification for the position; but 
his claims and his fitness were not sufficient for 
his success. Miles Standish, the hero of the 
Flemish wars, was chosen Captain, with full au- 
thority to command in all affairs requiring military 
action. Angry at being defeated, Billington de- 
clared his determination to return to England. 

"Go! 'twill be a blessing to the colony," an- 
swered the bluff Stephen Hopkins. 

"I will get justice done me there." 


"Marry! 1 doubt if you ever did." 

Billington winced under this keen retort and was 
about to make some answer, when Mathew Stevens 
chanced to look upon the hill and espied two 

"Look! 'there are natives," he cried, pointing 
to the two people on the hill. 

All eyes were turned toward them. 

"By the mass! they signal us to come," cried 

Then Captain Standish signalled them to come 
down ; but they would not. 

"Arm yourselves," commanded the captain. 
"We will stand on our defence." 

The men seized their guns and proceeded to load 
them. Having their matches lighted, Captain 
Standish and Stephen Hopkins went across the 
brook toward the Indians. Hopkins was unarmed; 
but the captain had his formidable snaphance in 
his hand, which the Indians noticed. 

"You had better lay down your gun, or they 
will not suffer us to draw near," suggested Hopkins. 

Standish laid down his gun in sight of the In- 
dians and once more advanced toward them; but 
they would not even then suffer the white men to 
come near them, and as they advanced, the Indians 
ran away into the forest near, making the old wood 
resound with their savage war-whoops. 


On his return, Standish recommended that they 
plant their cannon so as to defend their settlement. 
Next day Captain Jones and his sailors brought 
ashore a heavy piece called a minion and helped 
them drag the gun with another up the hill and 
mount the pieces. Work was resumed on the 
houses and fort, which were nearing completion. 

Their military organization having been inter- 
rupted by the appearance of the savages, they de- 
termined, on the 16th of March, to meet again and 
make it complete. The colony was assembled; 
but work had scarcely begun, when Mathew, who 
was on guard, suddenly cried: 

"There comes an Indian!" 


"From over the hill." 

All could see him now. He boldly advanced 
toward them, and seemed going toward their 
houses, but Stevens suddenly arrested his advance. 

"Stop! go no further!" he said. 

He paused, faced the white men and, with a mil- 
itary salute, to their astonishment, said in English: 

" Wekome!" 

"He speaks English!" cried Captain Standish. 

"Where are you from?" asked Mathew. 

"I have been to Monchiggon," was the answer, 
"and I know many English masters who come 
there to fish." 


They began to question him, and he continued: 

"I am not of these parts, but of Morattiggon, 
where I am one of the Sagamores. I have been in 
this land eight moons. It is five days journey by 
land to my country." 

"What country is this?" asked Mr. Bradford 
coming forward to take part in the conversation. 

"This is Patuxet, and about four years ago a 
plague came among the people, so they nearly all 
died and there are but few left." 

He told them of the visits of Fernando Gorges' 
men, and Captain Hunt, who had abducted the 
Indians, which had infuriated the people. 

They kept the savage two days and then dis- 
missed him. He promised to come again within a 
day or two and bring with him some of their 
neighbors whom he called the " Massasoyts. " 

On Sunday he returned with five more Indians 
clad in buckskin. They left their bows and ar- 
rows a quarter of a mile from the camp and evinced 
the greatest friendship. Their first acquaintance, 
Sarnoset, remained behind when the others were 
gone. He told the English that there was but one 
of the tribe of Patuxet* left, his name was 
Squanto, and he had been captured by Captain 

* The chroniclers of the Pilgrims spell this word Pa- 
tuxet and Patuxat. It is spelled by some authors Patuxent 
Either way probably is correct. 

Vol. 57 


Hunt, taken to Europe, sold in Spain, brought to 
England, and finally made his way to his own 
country, to find that the plague had swept away 
all his tribe. Samoset was sent to find Squanto 
and bring him in, as the Pilgrims were anxious to 
meet the only person who had any title to the 
lands they occupied. While in England, Squanto 
had lived at Cornhill with Mr. John Slanie, a mer- 
chant, and could speak a little English. Three 
other Indians came with them, bringing a few furs 
to trade with the whites. 

Samoset informed them that the great Sagamore 
Massasoyt (Massassoit) was near with Quadequina, 
his brother, and all their men. The Pilgrims 
were anxious to conclude treaties of peace with their 
dusky neighbors with whom they hoped in future 
to live at peace. An interview with the great 
Sagamore was brought about after considerable 
trouble. Some presents were exchanged and 
friendly relations established. 

Mr. Edward Winslow and Mathew Stevens were 
sent as ambassadors to the king. The former 
made a speech, saying that King James saluted 
him with words of love and peace and accepted 
him as his friend and ally, and that they desired 
to see him and " truck" (trade) with him and to 
confirm peace as his next neighbor. Mathew ob- 
served that Massasoyt liked the speech, which was 


interpreted by Squanto, their friend and represent- 
ative. A treaty was finally concluded, of which 
the following is the substance. 

I. That neither he nor any of his should in- 
jure or do any hurt to any of the English. 

II. That if any of his people did any hurt to 
any of the English, he should send them the 
offender, that they might punish him. 

III. That if any of their tools were taken while 
any of their people were at work, he should cause 
them to be restored, and if any Englishman did 
any of Massasoyt's people a harm, they would do 
likewise with him. 

IV. If any did unjustly war against him, they 
would aid him. If any did war against the Eng- 
lish, he should aid them. 

V. He should send to his neighbor confederates, 
to certify them of this, that they might not wrong 
the English, but might be likewise comprised in 
the same conditions of peace. 

VI. That when their men came to them, they 
should leave their bows and arrows behind them, 
as they would do with their pieces when they went 
among them. 

VII. That doing thus, King James would es- 
teem him his friend and ally. 

The great Sagamore and his people seemed de- 
lighted with the terms of the treaty. The whites 


were of course pleased with it, for it gave them a 
promise of peace. 

Squanto and Samoset both became firm friends 
of the Pilgrims. The doors at Plymouth were 
always open to them, and the dusky brothers were 
ever welcome at the white man's board. 

Shortly after the treaty with Massasoyt, the Pil- 
grims chose Mr. John Carver for their governor. 
He was the first governor of Plymouth, but dying 
shortly after his election, William Bradford was 
selected in his place. The Pilgrims could not have 
chosen a more wise and upright man. 

As has been previously stated, hardships and ex- 
posure began to tell at an early date on the unfor- 
tunate Pilgrims. Almost before the colony was 
formed, death, which invades alike palace and 
hovel, was among them, cutting down the young 
and old. 

Consumption, scurvy, and sickness in almost 
every form seized them, and at times the able- 
bodied were scarcely enough to take care of the sick 
or bury the dead. 

"I believe we will all die," declared Mrs. Brew- 
ster. " Then there will be no one left to bury the 
last one." 

Mr. Brewster, who was sustained by an undying 
faith, answered: 

" Whatever God wills, I obey. If it be His holy 


wish that I should find my final resting place in 
this wilderness, I will not complain." 

"But to die in the wilderness," sobbed Mrs. 

"It is God's wilderness," interrupted Mr. Brew- 

" So far from home and friends. " 
"God is with us. Jesus Christ is our friend." 
"I cannot abide here. Let us return." 
"O, my wife, your little faith shames me," 
replied the stern elder of the Plymouth church. 
" Do you doubt the goodness and mercy of God ? 
Eeturn? Whither should we return? To Ley- 
den, and see future generations grow up weaned 
from the religion which we hold dearer than life 
see them filled with the errors of sin, the loose 
morals desecrating the Sabbath, engaging in im- 
moral pleasures which destroy the soul? No, 
never! Better death in the wilderness. Should 
we go to England, would we be permitted to wor- 
ship God according to the dictates of conscience? 
No; the true worship of the living God would 
be exchanged for empty mummery from the lips 
rather than the heart. Never that. Better death 
in the wilderness. God is here. God is every- 
where. Though we are assailed with famine, sick- 
ness, and death, we have the blessed privilege of 
worshipping God. As Moses led the children of 


Israel out of Egypt into the wilderness, so come 
we. They suffered from sickness and famine, and 
so do we; yet God did sustain them, and will 
He not sustain us as well? Let us trust in God, 
and ever remember that though dark the night, 
the morn will come. Though bitter the bud, the 
flower will be sweet." 

Mrs. Brewster, quite humiliated by the gentle 
chiding of her pious husband, buried her face in 
her hands and sobbed: 

"Forgive me, O God, for I am weak! Give me 
strength according to my day and hour of trial!" 

One of the first homes assailed by the grim mon- 
ster, was the house of Miles Standish. The sol- 
dier's beautiful wife, Rose Standish, was the delicate 
flower which the blasts of New England winter 
were first to nip. A cough seized on her lungs, 
and she soon succumbed to it. 

The gallant captain who had never faltered in 
battle turned pale and trembled with anxiety as he 
saw his wife day by day growing weaker. At 
last she was unable to leave her coarse bed of skins 
and rushes. Tenderly the warrior cared for her, 
breathing words of hope; but she shook her head 
sadly and, while the hectic flush illuminated her 
cheek, answered: 

"No, no, Miles; I can never get well. God 
has summoned me home. Be as loyal to Him as 


you have been to me. I leave our child to you 
and you must be father and mother both to her." 
She ceased speaking, for she had grown very weak. 
It had been many years since the eyes of the sol- 
dier had been moist with grief; but now they grew 
dim, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. Mr. 
Brewster and his good wife came to the humble 
hut in which dwelt the captain and his dying wife. 
Famine and fever had wasted away her frame. 
Eose was but a shadow of her former self. She 
slept on the hard bed, the best her poor husband 
could afford. Mrs. Brewster carried something 
under her arm. She saw the dying wife and the 
weeping husband bending over her and then laid 
the bundle in his arms. It was a pillow. 

The captain received the gift in silence, and, 
gently raising his poor wife's head, placed the soft, 
downy pillow under it. What luxury! How 
sweet and soft compared with the hard, coarse 
bunting and bed of rushes, to which she had been 
accustomed! This gentle action of love awoke 
her, and Rose, looking up in her husband's face, 
smiled. It was the smile of an angel. 

"What have you done, dear husband? Such 
luxury as this is surely the gift of God. To those 
who love Christ, death, even in a wilderness, has 
no terrors." 

Again she fell asleep. The elder and his wife 


came and knelt by the rude bed with the husband. 
All silently prayed over the dying woman. 

They watched her through the long night, as her 
fever rose and fell. Death's dread rattle was in 
her throat, and slowly her sweet young life ebbed 
away. All the night long the stern soldier who 
had so often mocked death was on his knees. All 
his hopes, his love and ambition were centred in 
the dying wife. Dark and gloomy was that night 
of death. 

As day dawned, she opened wide her beautiful 
blue eyes and, gazing on the face of her faithful 
husband, murmured: 

"I am still here. I thought I should be gone 
ere this." After another fitful, feverish sleep, she 
again opened her eyes and faintly murmured: 

"God bless you faithful loving husband; 
good-by!" In a moment she was among the 



I meet her in my raptured dreams ; 
We rove the sylvan vales and streams, 
And talk of love and kindred themes, 

And promise not to sever. 
Can she, though absent, cheer me so? 
Has perfect bliss been found below? 
Can dreams of her, such joy bestow? 
Then let me dream forever. 


THE little town of Plymouth began to assume 
the appearance of a frontier settlement. By June 
1st, 1621, some of the houses were completed; or 
at least comfortable. When warm weather came, 
the mortality was less. Many of the sick recov- 
ered, and hope sprang up in the breasts of all. 

Their buildings were inferior and rude, and but 
seven, in addition to their public storehouse, 
church, and fort, were constructed the first year. 
The roofs were thatched, the walls of hewn logs 
cut and notched down. For light at the windows, 
paper, saturated in linseed oil was pasted over the 
sash; for they were without such luxuries as glass. 



On occasions of state, such as the reception of 
Massassoit, the Indian king, their council chamber 
was covered with a great green rug and some cush- 
ions, with other adornments, the handiwork of the 
wives and daughters of the Pilgrims.* 

Among the few who escaped the ravages of 
famine and fever was Mathew Stevens. He com- 
forted the bereaved, cheered the sick, and his 
helping hand was everywhere turned to aid those 
in distress. While Captain Standish was in 
mourning for his wife, Mathew had command of 
the soldiers, ready to defend the sick Pilgrims. It 
was well that they had no hostile foe to combat, 
for they could have made but little resistance. 

The grain planted grew well and gave promise 
of an abundant yield. The waters supplied them 
with fish and the forest with game, the trees had 
assumed their summer garb, and happiness was 
once more restored to the enfeebled colony. 

As every flock has a black sheep, so had the 
Pilgrims. Francis Billington seemed to have come 
on purpose to keep those devout men of God in 
constant trouble and turmoil. One always hates 
those whom he has wronged, and Billington enter- 
tained a supreme hatred for Mathew Stevens. He 

* There still may be seen in Pilgrims' Hall some fine 
specimens of needlework, made by the daughter of Miles 

ALICE. 107 

never permitted an opportunity to escape for doing 
Mathew an injury. The most frivolous matter was 
sufficient cause for Billington to institute a quarrel. 
One day they quarrelled about some tools. Al- 
though the mattock, spade, and axe were unques- 
tionably Mathew 's, he vowed that they were his, 
and he would defend his property. 

"They. are not yours," Mathew declared. 

"They are," and Billington, being a great 
swearer, became intensely profane. Mathew 
offered to arbitrate the matter, but Billington 
would listen to nothing reasonable. 

"I will have them," he declared. 

It was not until Miles Standish and John Alden 
threatened to tie him "head and heels," that he 
would consent to listen to the voice of justice. He 
gave up the tools, saying: 

"Ye have discomfited me twice; but I will yet 
have my revenge!" To which Mathew replied 

"As you will. If you must have a set-to with 
swords, I shall not be found wanting in courage to 
meet you." 

Billington was not one to court open combat. 
He preferred to gain his revenge by assassination, 
and had not an event happened soon after this 
quarrel, which attracted the attention of the whole 
colony, he might have shot or stabbed the young 


Spaniard in the dark. The next morning after 
the quarrel, the village was roused by the ringing 
of a bell, and hearing the awful cry: 

"Lost! lost! a child is lost!" 

Mathew and Brewster hastened from the house 
and asked of the first passer-by: 

"Whose child is lost?" 

"It is the son of Francis Billington," was the 
answer. To which Mr. Brewster said to him- 

" The young knave who so nearly blew up the 
Mayflower, and who has been a constant source 
of annoyance ever since." 

Billington was in great distress, and in order to 
create a prejudice against his enemy, and turn his 
woe to some account, he went about the streets 

"He hath robbed me of my child! He hath 
robbed me of my child!" 

" Who hath robbed you of your child?" Captain 
Miles Standish asked. 

"Mathew Stevens." 

"Nonsense; he knows nothing of him." 

Mathew was thunderstruck at the accusation; 
but Billington kept wringing his hands and repeat- 
ing that Mathew had stolen his son, until the gov- 
ernor and Captain Standish told him to cease. 

" Your boy has strayed away and been lost in 

ALICE. 109 

the forest. Pray what motive would Mathew have 
for abducting your child?" 


To which Captain Standish answered: 

"Hush! foul slanderer; he would not stoop to 
so vile a thing. We will make inquiry among 
the Indians and learn where the boy hath gone." 

Governor Bradford sent Mathew Stevens and 
John Alden to Massassoit to make inquiry for the 
lost boy. They brought back the information 
that he was at Nauset. He had become lost and 
bewildered in the forest and so wandered for five 
days living on berries, and reached an Indian 
plantation twenty miles south of Plymouth called 
Manomet. The natives at this place conducted 
him to Nauset, the country where the Pilgrims 
had had their first encounter with the savages. 
These Indians still retained a hatred of the Eng- 
lish, because Captain Hunt had abducted some of 
their people, and carried them to Europe. Gov- 
ernor Bradford despatched ten men in a shallop 
with two guides and interpreters with the eupho- 
nious names of Tisquantum and Tokamahamon, 
to go and bring back the lost boy. 

Captain Standish was in command of the ex- 
pedition, and he made Mathew his lieutenant. 
Every political or social elevation of Mathew 
Stevens seemed only to increase the hatred of 


Billington. On the eleventh of June, the weather 
being fair, the expedition set forth. They had 
net been long "at sea, when a thunder-storm arose, 
with wind and rain, and they were compelled to put 
into a harbor for the night, called Curnmaquid, 
where they hoped to gain some tidings of the boy. 
Next day they learned from some savages who were 
seeking lobsters that the boy was well, and still at 
Nauset. They were persuaded to land, and the 
Indians brought their sachem to them, with great 
crowds of people. Among them was an old wo- 
man, who, on seeing the English, began to scream, 
weep and tear her hair in a most extraordinary 

"What troubles her?" Captain Miles Standish 
asked through an interpreter. 

The Indian sachem answered: 

" She had three sons, taken by the Englishman 
Hunt and sold into slavery in Spain. Being de- 
prived of their comfort in her old age, she mourns 
for them." Captain Standish, moved by her grief, 

" Tell her that we are very sorry that any English- 
man should be so cruel. Mr. Hunt was a very 
bad man and we all condemn him for what he did. 
As for us, we would not suffer any injury to be 
done to you, for all the furs in the country." 

He then gave the mother some small trifles, 


which partially appeased her grief by exciting her 
curiosity. After dinner they once more pushed 
out for Nauset accompanied by the sachem and 
two of his chief men. They landed and sent mes- 
sengers to the Indians offering to make restitution 
for the corn they had taken, and also to pay them 
for restoring the boy. After sunset they brought 
John Billington to them. 

The young scape-grace, little affected by his long 
journey in the forest and captivity among the In- 
dians, evinced no emotion on meeting his father. 
By a liberal donation of presents, the Pilgrims 
more strongly cemented their friendship with the 
tribes and returned to Plymouth. 

Among the Pilgrims early to succumb to the 
dread disease of consumption and famine, was one 
William White. Mathew had never been inti- 
mate with him, as he had not known him until 
they sailed on the Mayflower. There were a great 
many Whites in England, and it had never oc- 
curred to Stevens that this man might be a relative 
of Alice White. 

The widow of the Pilgrim required the assist- 
ance of her friends, and the single men of the 
colony planted her corn, completed her house and 
did such other work as was needful for the com- 
fort of herself and. children. Mathew, being the 
best carpenter in the colony, was most frequently 


at the home of the widow. One day, while at 
work in the house making some shelves, he asked: 

"Did you come from London?" 


"Have you always lived in London?" 

"No; we once lived in Lincolnshire." 

"Lincolnshire," said Mathew thoughtfully. "1 
was once in Lincolnshire. You did not go to 


"Had Mr. White any relatives in Lincoln- 

"Yes; a sister and a niece." 

Mathew, who was in the act of nailing a board, 
dropped his hammer and fixed his dark eyes on 
the widow and asked: 

"What was the name of the sister and niece?" 

"Sarah White and her daughter Alice." 

"Did they remove to London?" 


"Are they still there?" 

"They are." 

"It's the same! It's the same!" cried Mathew, 
clapping his hands in an ecstacy of joy. 

"Pray, what mean you?" asked the widow. 

He hurriedly explained how he had been res- 
cued from prison by Alice when she was a little 
girl, and how romantically they had met in Lon- 

ALICE. 113 

don ten years later. He concluded his narration 
with a description of her, and the widow said: 

"It is the same sweet, gentle Alice." 

" They said they were going to emigrate to New 

" Such is their intent. They are to come in the 
Mayflower on her second voyage." 

Alice coming! It was the most glorious news 
he had heard. How he watched the old ocean, 
climbing the tallest summit morn after morn, as 
the rising sun crimsoned hills, valleys and sea, and 
gazed oceanward in hopes of catching a glimpse of 
the Mayflower returning from England. Patience 
and perseverance usually meet their reward. 

Summer glided by like a dream, partly terrible, 
partly pleasant. Autumn came with the fullness 
and richness of a golden harvest. The fields 
yielded an abundance of their fruits and the air 
was burdened with the perfume of ripened plums 
and wild-flowers. The colony was at peace with 
the natives, and preparations were being made 
against the rigors of the coming winter. The hills 
and forests about them breathed whispers of peace 
and plenty; the blue skies above were mild and 

It was evening, and the young Pilgrim had again 
gained the eminence and gazed off to sea, when the 
moon rose from the water, flooding all the hemisphere 

Vol. 58 


with light. Mathew looked caught his breath for 
a moment, then shouted with delight and danced 
for joy. Never did shipwrecked mariner behold 
with more delight the appearance of a vessel that 
was to bear him from a desolate island, than did 
Mathew Stevens discover that sail by moonlight. 

"It has come! The ship has come!" 

He ran down the hill and dashed into the vil- 
lage, repeating his joyous cry: 

"It has come! It has come!" 

When asked what had come, he merely pointed 
seaward, and again shouted, "It has come!" 

They understood his meaning, and a boat was 
made ready to go to the vessel. As nearly every- 
body expected friends, nearly everybody wanted 
to go to the ship. The tide being out, and there 
being not a breath of wind, all knew that the ship 
could not enter the harbor before morning. Those 
who did not expect friends, had letters aboard the 
ship from loved ones at home, and the boat was 
loaded down. 

Mathew had to make a stubborn fight for a 
place, but succeeded, and they started toward the 
ship. It was midnight before the vessel was 
reached, and they found the emigrants buried in 
slumber. The Pilgrims gathered in a group on 
deck to await the dawn. When morning came, 
there were many glad hearts; but no one was more 

ALICE. 115 

happy than Mathew. Alice White and her mother 
were aboard, and as soon as they awoke he found 
them and told them that work had already been 
begun on their house and the ground laid out for 
their home. To the new comers, the colonists repre- 
sented the country as a land of wonders. Captain 
Jones asked Miles Standish how far the forest and 
hills extended to the west. He answered: 

"I do not know. I have been fifteen miles into 
those woods and hills, and as far as I could see 
from where I was, there was a vast forest, the ex- 
tent whereof I know not." 

Miles Standish knew no more of that great wil- 
derness stretching across the continent for three 
thousand miles, than is known of the treasures at 
the bottom of the ocean. By means of a fair wind 
and tide, the emigrant ship was brought into the 
harbor and the emigrants debarked. The shore 
was lined with boxes and piles of goods, and the 
settlement presented a lively, bustling scene. The 
Indians from the distant hills watched with un- 
easy eyes and anxious hearts. This was but the 
beginning. That band of white men would in- 
crease and press the red brother back, until he was 
swept from the globe. 

Sarah White and her daughter went to live with 
Mrs. White until their own home could be pre- 
pared for them. With Mathew Stevens, the con- 


struction of the house was a labor of love. Being 
the best carpenter in the colony, and having plenty 
of assistance, he soon prepared the building for 
Alice and her mother, and they took up their 
abode at once in their new home. 

Mathew Stevens asked Alice to name the day 
she would become his wife; but she deferred the 
matter from time to time. They had had many 
deaths, two births, but no marriage in the colony. 
Mathew was past thirty, a sturdy young fellow 
with a frame of iron. Alice was twenty-three, 
and there seemed no obstacle to their union. 
True, they were poor; but poverty is no stumbling 
block in the pathway of love. 

One day, while roaming in the wooded hills 
amid the rustling of golden leaves, they paused 
beside a murmuring brook, and, gazing at the 
limpid stream, he said: 

"Our lives are like those rivulets, gradually 
running out toward the great ocean of eternity. 
There is naught to keep these two little streams 
from uniting their waters and speeding on joyously 
in a happy union, save the pebble which divides 
them. Only a pebble prevents our union. Do 
you love me?" 

He paused for her answer, and Alice, with her 
head bowed, watched the tiny streamlet. 

"I have answered your question often; yes." 



"Then why not consent to fix the day?" 

She heaved a sigh and, with an expression oi 
mysterious sadness on her face, said: 

"Not now; not now. Bide your time. I will 
talk with my mother." 

As they rambled down the hillside toward the 
Puritan village Mathew heard 
the tread of feet coming behind 
them, and turning saw the for- 
bidding countenance of Francis 
Billington. He had an axe on 
his shoulder and was wending his 
way toward the village. 
He bowed and passed 
on ; but there was some 
thing in the man's 
glance which filled 
Mathew with uneasi- 

"That man! That 
man, with a face brim- 
ming o'er with evil!" 
gasped Alice. 

"His name is Billing- 



"Billington! Billington! Did you say Billing- 
ton?" she gasped. 

"Yes. Francis Billington!" Noticing that she 


shuddered, he asked: "Did you ever see him 

"Did he come from London?" 


"I I have seen him." 

Billington had gone before them, disappearing 
over the hill, and when Alice came in sight of 
her home, she saw him leaving their cottage. 
Mathew was so earnestly urging his suit, that he 
did not see the man as he hastened away. 

"Alice, listen to me! Tell me when you can 
fix the day. I have the home almost ready," he 
was saying. 

"Wait, Mathew, until to-morrow." 

"Will you give me my answer to-morrow?" 

"I will talk with my mother to-night." 

He left her at the cottage door, and with a 
lighter heart, hastened down the hill toward the 
home of Mr. Brewster. 

He had just crossed the running brook which 
flowed near the house, when a man, coming down 
among the trees, called to him. 

"Ho! Mathew, wait a moment." 

He stopped. Francis Billington was coming 
toward him. He had been to his own house and 
ran across the hill to intercept him. "Wait, 
friend Mathew, I would a word with ye." 

Mathew Stevens paused by a large moss-grown 

ALICE. 119 

stone on the banks of the brooklet, and turned his 
eyes suspiciously on the man. " Nay, Mathew, be 
not offended at me, for I would be yer friend." 

Mathew had avoided Billington since their quar- 
rel over the tools. Billington had made strong 
efforts to reconcile him; but the young Spaniard 
had concluded it best to have nothing whatever to 
do with him. 

"Do ye know the maid whom I saw?" Billing- 
ton said. 

"I certainly do." 

"How long have ye known her?" 

" Since she was a little girl and set me free while 
you were drinking in the tap-room." 

It was Billington' s turn to be astonished, and, 
opening wide his eyes, he said: 

"Did she do it?" 

"She did." 

A single instant his eyes flashed fire; but he re- 
covered himself and asked: 

"When did ye see her again?" 

"Three years ago in London." 

"Do ye know her mother was a sister of the late 
William White?" 


"The mother's name is White?" 


"The daughter's name is White?" 


"Of course." 

" The mother and brother have the same name, 
eh? Ah, Mathew, ye must be a dullard not to 
know that a sister changes her name when she 

"What do you mean?" Mathew demanded, 
starting to his feet, his eyes flashing with rage. 

"Nay, nay; be calmer. Sit ye down and listen 
to all I have to say." 

Mathew was induced to listen to him, and just 
as the golden rays of the setting sun gilded the 
western landscape, the evil genius of the young 
Spaniard concluded his long harangue with the 
following strange but logical argument: 

" The maid to whom ye are betrothed is Alice 
White; her mother is Sarah White, whose brother 
was the late William White. Now, verily, where 
there is so much White, there needs must be some 
black. Have a care. Alice's mother was White 
when a maid, is still White. Verily , was she ever 
married? Have a care beware of that maid. Be 
not too hasty to possess a nameless bride!" And 
having filled Mathew's mind with horrible conject 
ures, Billingtou left him. 



Hear, Father, hear thy faint, afflicted flock 
Cry to thee, from the desert rock ; 
While those who seek to slay thy children hold 
Blasphemous worship under roofs of gold ; 
And the broad, goodly lands, with pleasant airs 
That nurse the grape and wave the grain, are theirs. 


THE history of the United States is the warp 
and woof of a wonderful romance. From Colum- 
bus to the present is one grandly sublime serial 
story, each instalment of which is a sequel of the 
preceding age. Epoch is so linked with epoch, 
that separation breaks the thread of the romance. 

The destinies of the Spanish, French, Dutch 
and English are strangely interwoven and, taken 
as a comprehensive whole, make up the romance 
of the New World. 

We have already seen how the Pilgrims were 

brought into close relations with the Dutch through 

their banishment from England to Leyden. 

Though they disapproved the loose morals and 



irreligious customs of the Netherlands, they left 
many personal friends in Holland. The history 
of the Pilgrims would be incomplete without some 
reference to the Dutch. 

As we have so frequently had occasion to refer 
to the Dutch West India Company, it will, per- 
haps, be in order at this point in our story to make 
some explanation of it. In the year 1602, Dutch 
merchants in the Indian trade formed an associ- 
ation with a capital of more than a million dollars, 
under the corporate title of The Dutch East India 
Company. The government of Holland gave them 
the exclusive privilege of trading in the Eastern 
seas between the Cape of Good Hope and the 
Straits of Magellan that is to say, over all the 
Indian and South Pacific Oceans between Africa 
and America. The enterprise was so profitable, 
that an application was made to the government, 
in 1607, for the incorporation of the Dutch West 
Indian Company to trade along the coast of 
Africa, from the tropics to the Cape of Good Hope, 
and from New Foundland to Cape Horn along the 
continent of America. Political considerations 
arising from some delicate relations in connection 
with Spain deferred the issuing the charter for 
such a company for several years. 

It was in the service of the East India Com- 
pany that Henry Hudson sailed on his famous voy- 


age to discover the northwest passage to India and, 
while searching for it, discovered the Hudson 
River and New York Bay. The rumor that the 
region discovered by Hudson literally swarmed 
with fur-bearing animals excited the cupidity of 
the Dutch, who had recently experienced the pleas- 
ures of a profitable fur trade which they had 
opened with northern Russia. Manhattan Island, 
at the mouth of the river, was naturally so well 
adapted for commercial purposes, that it was made 
the central point where the treasures of the forests 
and streams were gathered. 

Among the many bold navigators to come to this 
New World was Adrien Block of the Tigress. 
Late in autumn of 1613, she lay in New York har- 
bor laden with valuable furs ready to spread her 
white wings for her native shore. While the mas- 
ter and most of the crew were on shore taking a 
farewell of the friendly Indians, the vessel acci- 
dentally took fire and burned to the water's edge. 
For awhile the Dutchmen found shelter in the frail 
wigwams of the Indians, and then built themselves 
houses of logs, cut from trees where the ware- 
houses of Beaver Street now stand. Before spring 
the oaks that sheltered black bears on the wooded 
slopes, where the "bulls" of Wall Street now daily 
combat with the bruins of finance, were converted 
into a trim and staunch little craft of sixteen tons, 


named the Onrust (Restless), a prophetic title of 
the restless activity which two centuries and a half 
later was to mark the island of Manhattan. The 
little hamlet built by the shipwrecked Dutchmen 
was the nucleus of the great metropolis, New York 

In the spring of 1614, Block left the island of 
Manhattan, passed through Hell Gate into Long 
Island Sound, discovered and explored the rivers 
Housatonic, Connecticut, and Thames, anchored in 
the bay of New Haven, touched at Montauk Point 
on the eastern end of Long Island and landed at a 
small island further eastward, which Verrazzani 
had discovered almost fifty years before. He sailed 
to the shores of all the islands and the main from 
Narragansett Bay around to Nahant, beyond Bos- 
ton Harbor. The plague had not yet visited 
Patuxet, and the country which the Pilgrims six 
years later found almost depopulated was filled 
with comely, timid people. Block here fell in 
with the ship Fortune and sailed to Holland, where 
he gave the deputies of the Amsterdam company an 
account of his discovery. It was seen at once that 
these discoveries were of immense political as well 
as commercial value. Block was one of the dep- 
uties who went to the States- General meeting in 
the Binnenhof . He spread his map upon the table 
and their value as parts of the territories of the 


Dutch was fully set forth. The States-General 
gladly complied with the wishes of the company, 
and, on the llth of October, 1614, a charter was 
given them, duly signed and sealed, by which the 
petitioners were granted the usual privileges of the 
ordinance. The territory included in the charter, 
and which was defined as lying between Virginia 
and New France, between the parallels of forty and 
forty-five degrees, was called New Netherland. 

The charter was granted for only four years, at 
the end of which time the government refused to 
renew it, as it contemplated the issuing of a larger 
and more comprehensive charter to a West India 
Company. Dutch navigators, meanwhile, entered 
and explored the Delaware Bay and Kiver, prob- 
ably as far up as the falls of Trenton; and on the 
site of Philadelphia they ransomed three Dutch 
traders, who had fallen into the hands of the In- 
dians. Efforts were made to obtain a four years' 
trading charter for that region also; but the States- 
General, considering the domain a part of Virginia, 
refused to grant it. 

The directors of the New Netherland then prose- 
cuted their trading enterprises on the borders of 
the Hudson with increased vigor. They enlarged 
the Manhattan storehouse, and the little hamlet 
which Block and his shipwrecked sailors had es- 
tablished soon grew to a social village. The traders 


went over the pine barrens into the Mohawk valley 
and became acquainted with the powerful Iroquois 
league of Five Confederate Nations. They built a 
new fort at the mouth of the Tawasentha, now 
Normans-Kill, a little below Albany, where a 
treaty of friendship, which was kept inviolate, was 
made with the Five Nations. This was the wisest 
stroke of policy yet made by any European power, 
for the Iroquois League was powerful enough to 
have swept every European intruder out of North 

The settlements of the Hollanders were too 
remote from Jamestown to excite the alarm of the 
English there, and all New England was, up to 
this time, a wilderness. The Plymouth Company 
complained that they were intruders on their do- 
main, and King James made some threats which 
he never executed. Captain Dermer of an English 
ship, one fine morning in June, 1619, while on 
his way to Virginia, sailed through Long Island 
Sound, lost his anchor in an encounter with the 
eddies of Hell Gate, and flattered himself that he 
was the original discoverer of that " most danger- 
ous cataract" as well as the flowery islands between 
which he sailed. On reaching New York Bay he 
was amazed to see the smoke issuing from Dutch 
cottages, and to discover quite a village on Man- 
hattan Island. He did not pause then to interview 



the intruders, but, on his return, felt it his duty 
to go in and warn the traffickers to leave his 
majesty's domain as quickly as possible; but the 
Hollanders did not seem to be in the least alarmed 
at his threats. 

"We found no Englishmen here, and we hope 
we have not offended," a good-natured Dutchman 
replied to the harangue of the English captain, 
and the Hollanders went on smoking their pipes, 
planting their gardens, and catching beavers and 
otters, as if they had never heard of Captain Der- 
mer, the "loving subject" of the dread King James 
of England. The royal bluster which came in 
fitful gusts from the throne of England did not 
deter the States-General from helping the Dutch in 
New Netherland, and they proceeded to charter 
the Dutch West India Company, making it a great 
commercial monopoly, by giving it almost kingly 
powers to colonize, govern, and defend, not only 
the little domain on the Hudson, but the whole 
unoccupied coasts of America from New Found- 
land to Cape Horn, and the western coast of 
Africa, from the Cape of Good Hope far northward. 

In this charter, republicanism was recognized 
as the true system of government, in its broadest 
and purest sense, as the prime element of political 
strength. Nativity and creed were to be no bar 
to a stranger. The authors of the Declaration of 


Independence may have drawn some inspiration 
from this document. 

"Do you wish to build, to plant and to become 
a citizen?" was the sum total of their catechism. 
This charter was granted during the first year of 
the Pilgrims' residence at Plymouth, and it was 
two years later before the company was organized. 

Meanwhile the Plymouth Company had obtained 
a new charter as has already been stated. A more 
tryannical charter with more absolute powers was 
never granted. Without consent of the Plymouth 
Company, no ships could enter the harbor on the 
American coast between New Foundland and the 
latitude of Philadelphia; not a fish could be caught 
within three miles of the American coast; not a 
skin trafficked for in the forest, nor an emigrant live 
upon the soil. This extraordinary charter was 
signed by the king a week before the arrival of the 
Mayflower off Cape Cod with the Pilgrims, and that 
little colony of heroes, who had braved the terrors 
of the Atlantic for the sake of freedom, were f>ro- 
spectively subjected to an almost irresponsible des- 
potism. The House of Commons, alarmed at this 
delegation of despotic powers to a grasping corpo- 
ration, presented the patent as the first of "the 
public grievances of the kingdom." The French 
embassador in London protested against it, because 
Canada was included within the limits of the Plym- 


outh Company's charter, and a little later the 
captain of the French vessel anchored in the mouth 
of the Hudson River attempted to set up the arms 
of France there and take possession of the country 
in the name of the king. The Dutch were of 
course very much exercised over the charter, for, as 
it was literally construed, it robbed them of their 
possessions in New Netherland. Thus we see the 
land, which, from the first, was regarded as a refuge 
for the persecuted, torn with factions and held by 
great grasping corporations more tyrannical than 
the most despotic monarch. The first emigrants 
as tenants of the corporators were in fact little bet- 
ter than serfs; but the new world was growing. 
The persecuted within the mysterious depths of 
the great old forests found seclusion, peace and 
safety, and they came as did the Pilgrims, depend- 
ing on God. 

At this time there were thousands of refugees 
from persecution in the Netherlands. Among these 
was a class called Walloons. The Walloons were 
of French extraction. They had inhabited the 
southern Belgic provinces of Hainault, Namur, 
Luxemburg, Limburg and a part of the bishopric 
of Liege. When the northern provinces of the 
Netherland formed their union more than forty 
years before, these southern provinces, whose in- 
habitants were mostly Roman Catholics, declined 

Vol. 59 


to join the confederation. There were many Prot- 
estants in those provinces, and they were made to 
feel in all its rigor the full effect of Spanish per- 
secution. Thousands of them fled to Holland, 
where strangers of every race and creed were wel- 
come. The Walloons were a hardy race, skilful, 
industrious and honest, and they introduced many 
useful arts into their adopted country. 

From Holland the emigration to New Nether- 
land was a natural result. On a beautiful May 
morning, the Walloons landed on the rocky shore, 
where Castle Garden for so long was the first recip- 
ient of the emigrant. They made a picturesque 
appearance as they ascended the bank in their 
quaint costume, every man carrying some article of 
domestic use, and many a woman carrying a babe 
or small child in her arms. They were cordially 
welcomed by the resident traders and friendly In- 
dians, and under a great tent made of sails a boun- 
teous feast was spread. After the feast, a minister 
who was with them offered up a fervent prayer to 
God. May, the first director, then read his com- 
mission and formally assumed governorship of the 
colony and country. In order to secure as wide a 
domain as possible, the Walloons were sent to 
different points to form settlements. Some settled 
on Long Island and founded the city of Brooklyn. 
Others went up the Connecticut River to a point 


near the site of Hartford and built Fort Good 
Hope. Others planted themselves in the present 
Ulster County, New York, and others settled at 
Albany, where the Dutch erected Fort Orange. 
Others went to the Delaware and began a settle- 
ment at the mouth of Timber Creek, on the east 
side of the river, a few miles below the site of 
Philadelphia, and built a small military station, 
which they called Fort Nassau. The Dutch part 
of the New World was growing. Shiploads of 
valuable furs began to reach Holland from New 
Netherland, and the jealous growls of King James 
became more ominous. 

In 1626, Minuit, the new governor, arrived at 
Manhattan in the ship Sea Mew. The first official 
act of the new governor was to enter into nego- 
tiations with the Indians for the purchase of Man- 
hattan Island, so as to obtain a more valid title to 
its possession than that of discovery and occupation. 
It was estimated that it contained about twenty- 
two thousand acres of land, and it was purchased 
for the West India Company for a sum amounting 
to about twenty-four dollars. A fort was built on 
the lower end of the island, now called the Battery, 
and named Fort Amsterdam. From this fort the 
cannon commanded the entrances to the Hudson 
and the East River. The town which sprang up 
about the fort was called New Amsterdam, which 


name it retained until it was surrendered to the 
English, when the city was christened New York. 

While French and English colonists from free 
Holland were planting settlements- on the Delaware 
and Hudson Rivers and the borders of Cape Cod 
Bay, a seed time had begun in that portion of New 
England soil now covered by the States of New 
Hampshire and Maine. The sweeping charter, 
which had met such a storm of opposition in the 
English House of Commons, brought into Parlia- 
ment the first general discussion of American 
affairs. Gorges and Calvert defended the charter, 
relying on the king's prerogative as the ground- 
work of their argument. The charter was opposed 
by those philanthropists, Sir Edwin Sandys and 
the venerable Sir Edwin Coke, who had been Lord 
Chief -Justice of England. 

For the good of the public, Sandys pleaded for 
freedom in fishing and general commerce, which 
was then becoming a staple wealth of England. 
"The fishermen hinder the plantations," replied 
Calvert, a champion of the sweeping charter. 
"They choke the harbor with their ballast, and 
waste the forest by their improvident use. Amer- 
ica is 'not annexed to the realm, nor within the 
jurisdiction of Parliament; you therefore have no 
right to interfere." 

" We make laws for Virginia," another member 


replied. " A bill passed by the Lords and Com- 
mons, if it receives the king's assent, will control 
the patent," 

Sir Edward Coke argued, with references to the 
statutes of the realm, that as the charter was 
granted without regard to pre-existing rights, it 
was necessarily void. This attack upon the royal 
prerogative aroused the angry monarch, who sat 
near the speaker's chair, and caused him to blurt 

"Would you presume on the divine rights of 
kings? " This so roused the Commons that they 
passed a bill giving freedom to commerce in spite 
of the charter. Before the bill had become a law, 
the king dissolved Parliament and issued a procla- 
mation forbidding any vessel to approach the shores 
of North Virginia without the special consent of 
the Plymouth Company. Francis West was coin- 
missioned Admiral of New England and was sent 
to protect the chartered rights of the company. 
The domain to be guarded was too large, and his 
force was too feeble to seize the fast sailing fishing 
vessels. At the next meeting of Parliament, a long 
and bitter discussion ensued on the charter, which 
Sir Edward Coke declared unconstitutional. A bill 
granting the right to fish on the shores of New 
England without consent of the Plymouth Com- 
pany was passed, though it never received the sig- 


nature of the king. The monopolists, discouraged 
by the opposition of the Commons, lowered their 
pretensions, and many of the patentees withdrew 
their interests in the company. Those who re- 
mained did little more than issue grants of domain 
in the northeastern parts of America. 

Among the grants of domain by the Plymouth 
Company was one to Captain John Mason, who had 
been governor of New Foundland. It embraced 
the country in Massachusetts, between Salem and 
Newburyport, inland to the sources of the Merri- 
mac Eiver, and all the islands on its sea front, 
within three miles of the coast. To forestall French 
settlements in the East, and to secure the country 
to the Protestants, Gorges procured a grant to 
Sir William Alexander of the whole main eastward 
of the St. Croix Eiver excepting a small portion 
in Acadia. 

Gorges and Mason projected plans for a very 
extensive colonization. They obtained a patent 
for the country along the coast of New England, 
between the Merrimac and Kennebec Rivers and 
back to the St. Lawrence, under the title of the 
Province of Laconia. Although settlements were 
projected and attempted in this country, which was 
represented as being a veritable paradise, none be- 
came permanent until about the year 1630. Mason 
and Gorges agreed to divide their territory at the 


Piscataqua River, and, in 1629, the former ob- 
tained a patent for the country between that river 
and the Merrimac and gave it the name of New 
Hampshire. In 1631, he built a house at the 
mouth of the Piscataqua and named the spot Ports- 
mouth. Having been governor of Portsmouth and 
Hampshire in England, he transferred these names 
to the new world. Four years later he died, and 
his widow attempted to manage his large estates; 
but they passed into the hands of his creditors. 
A handful of settlers were left to themselves to 
fashion an independent State, and, though the 
growth of the State was slow, there was a steady 
advancement. There was then only one agricul- 
tural settlement in all New England, excepting 
Massachusetts, and scarcely the germ of a State 
had appeared. Most of the colonists were mere 
squatters, moving from place to place as game and 
fish became scarce, and were little better than the 

The Plymouth Company neglected their vari- 
ous plantations, when they found the expense of 
maintaining them exceeded the income and threat- 
ened the corporation with financial ruin. Mean- 
while, the French resolved to maintain their hold 
on New France, and they were building forts at the 
mouth of the Penobscot and threatening to seize 
the territory between that river and the Kennebec. 


To add to the general calamity and gloom which 
seemed to overshadow English possessions in the 
New World, the Indians were showing decided 
evidences of restlessness, and it required no prophet 
to predict a general uprising in the near future. 

In 1625, King James died, and his son Charles 
I. ascended to the throne. His ideas of the divine 
rights of kings were no doubt inherited from his 
bigoted father ideas which had much to do with 
his downfall. Gorges was summoned before the 
House of Commons to show cause why his charter 
should not be revoked. He defended the company 
against various charges with vigor, until he and 
his associates perceived that further contention 
would be useless, and provided for its dissolution. 
North Virginia was divided into twelve royal prov- 
inces and assigned to persons named, and at the last 
meeting in April, 1635, the company caused to 
be entered upon their minutes the following record: 

"We have been bereaved of friends, oppressed 
by losses, expenses and . troubles, assailed before 
the Privy Council again and again with groundless 
charges, weakened by the French and other forces 
without and within the realm, and what remains is 
only a breathless carcass. We, therefore, now re- 
sign the patent to the king, first reserving all grants, 
by us made and all vested rights, a patent we have 
holden about fifteen years." 


After the dissolution of the company, the king 
appointed eleven of his Privy Council a " Board of 
Lords Commissioners of all the American Planta- 
tions," and committed to them the general direc- 
tion of colonial affairs. Gorges, who, though sixty 
years of age, was robust and vigorous in mind and 
body, was appointed Governor-General of New 
England, although he never reached America. 
His nephew, William Gorges, was sent over as his 
lieutenant to administer the government. He made 
his headquarters at Saco, where he found one hun- 
dred and fifty inhabitants governed by a social 
compact. Here he established a regular govern- 
ment on the 28th of March, 1636, the first within 
the State of Maine. He formed laws for his col- 
ony; but they were little heeded in America, for 
already the inhabitants of the New World had be- 
gun to scent liberty afar off. Gorges lived eight 
years in the enjoyment of his vice-royal honors, 
and soon after his death his possessions in America 
passed under the jurisdiction of Massachusetts. 

Thus we find a growing world about the Pilgrim 
Fathers, which, in the distant future, was destined 
to swallow them up, forming a great commonwealth 
of which they were to be a component part. Per- 
haps this digression has already taken the reader 
too far from our story, so we will return to it at 



" Life hath its sins. Repent, confess and cleanse thy soul ! 
No closets build. 
The closets filled 

With soft-boned baby skeletons in youth, 
Will ope some day with ruth 
To giant skeletons with iron frame, 
That stalk the heart to rive and tear, 
And then creep back with care 
To lie in wait ; some other day to fare 
Abroad in hand with shame. " 


ON returning from her stroll with Mathew Ste- 
vens, Alice White found her mother in tears. She 
opened her eyes wide in wonder and asked: 

" Mother, what is the matter? " 

"Nothing, child." 

How often one tries to conceal a heart-rending 
burden beneath an ambiguous "nothing." Alice 
was too shrewd to be deceived. Coming in as she 
did out of the warm sunlight of Mathew' s love, the 
chilling tears of an unknown grief produced a 
shock to her nervous system, and poor Alice felt 


as if all her hopes would sink. Going to her 
mother, she placed her arms about her and cried: 

"Mother, mother, tell me what makes you 

Sarah White brushed away her tears and, with 
a feeble effort to smile, answered : 

"Oh, 'child, it is nothing to bother you with; it 
is really nothing." 

" You need not tell me it is nothing. You are 
not wont to fall to weeping over nothing." 

" Why should an old woman, whose nerves are 
shattered as mine are, trouble you with matters 
which interest you not? " 

With an effort to check her mother's tears, Alice 
said, "Mother, some one has been here since I 

Mrs. White was too truthful to deny the asser- 

"It was the man Billington, the same who used 
to annoy you in London," continued Alice. 

"You have seen him then? You know he is in 
America? " 

"Yes; I saw him leave the house as we ap- 

The widow heaved a sigh and said: 

"Don't think of him; he will not, he cannot 
harm you." 

"Is he the cause of these tears? " 


" Don't think about it, Alice. Oh, my nerves 
are quite upset." 

"He is the cause, mother; I know it," cried 
Alice, sinking into a chair and burying her face in 
her hands. 

" Forget it, Alice. It really does no good to 
dwell on the subject. What cannot be cured must 
be endured; so, child, learn to bear your cross 
with meekness and resignation." 

"What did he say?" 

"I cannot tell." 

For a long time Alice sat with her hands clasped 
and her eyes raised m mute appeal to her mother's 
face. She was trying to read her soul. Sarah 
White, unable to meet the burning gaze of her 
daughter, averted her head and was silent. Alice 
at last spoke, and her voice was changed and hol- 
low as if every word were wrung in agony from a 
tortured heart: 

"Mother, what is this terrible mystery? Won't 
you explain it to me; can't you explain it? Why 
is Francis Billington, like an evil genius, following 
us wherever we go? Why can we find no city 
large enough, no forest deep enough to hide us 
from his evil eyes? Wherever we go, there he 
is. From Plymouth to the Downs, from the 
Downs to Lincolnshire, thence to London, he hath 
pursued us, and when, hoping to find an asylum 


in the forests of America, we cross the ocean, lo, 
we find him here. Everywhere we go, wherever 
we turn we find him there to heap misery on us. 
Oh, mother, mother, tell me what means all this 
mystery! " and Alice broke down and sobbed. 

Sarah White was very much agitated; but she 
made an effort to seem calm and assured her daugh- 
ter that they had no cause to apprehend any evil 
from Billington, though she left the mystery still 
veiled. A pebble may change the current of a 
rivulet, a rivulet may alter the channel of a stream, 
and a stream may sometimes alter the channel of a 
river; so may a small affair change happiness to 
misery. A single sigh, a single tear, a frown or 
an unkind word may drive the sunshine from a 
happy heart. Already Alice had forgotten how 
happy she was a few moments before with Mathew 
at her side, pouring his tale of love in her ears. 
Darkness and despair now reigned in this young 
heart, where, but a few. moments before, all was 
joy and sunlight. 

Alice was not the only one who suffered on that 
night. Mathew Stevens went from the interview 
with Billington with a load on his heart. At first 
the shock produced by the suggestion of Billington 
was so great that it benumbed his sensibilities; 
but as the stunning effects passed away, a restless 
uneasiness, the heavy, oppressive feeling of men- 


tal worry, which destroys digestion and makes 
life miserable, took possession of him. He went 
home, trying to thrust aside the warning of Bil- 

"He is a knave, very much given to lying," he 
reasoned with himself. " He never is so happy as 
when making some one miserable. Billington is 
one of those persons who serve Satan. I won't 
believe him. I won't allow my thoughts to dwell 
on what he has said. I will forget it." 

It was much easier to form the resolution than 
to cany it out. One is not always master of his 
own thoughts, and he -often found himself recur- 
ring to the argument of Billington: "She was 
White before she was married. She is still White. 
Yerily, where there is so much White, there needs 
must be some black. Was she ever married? " 

He passed a sleepless night, and next day went 
to his labors with an aching head and a heavy 
heart. On his way he met his friend John Alden. 
John was not slow to notice that the face of his 
friend betrayed care and sorrow. 

"What troubles you, Mathew?" Alden asked. 
"Hath Alice refused to become your wife? " 

"She will not fix the day," Mathew answered 

" You have had the courage to tell the maid of 
your love? " 



"I have." 

"I would that I could do the same," and John 
heaved a sigh, which startled Mathew. Had he a 
rival in his friend? Mathew had been trained in 


a school to which deceit had no admission, for the 
Pilgrims were blunt and plain spoken people. 

"Do you love her, John? " he asked. 



"No, Alice White." 

John saw his friend's mistake and, smiling, 
answered : 

"No, Mathew; I am no rival for that maid's 

"Then why your remark: 'I would that I could 
do the same?' " 

" It is not Alice White, but Priscilla Mullins, 
who hath won my heart," John answered, blushing 
like a school-boy. 

"Then, John, why do you not tell her so? for, 
surely, you can win her." 

"Alas, no! " John answered, and, sitting on a 
log, he took his steeple-crowned hat to fan his 
heated face. 

"Why not?" asked Mathew. 

"Prythee, sit down, Mathew; I have something 
to say." 

Mathew Stevens accordingly took a seat by his 
friend's side, and John resumed: 

" I have a rival for the hand and heart of Pris- 
cilla Mullins." 

"Who, pray, is this rival?" Mathew asked. 

"It is a rival with whom I am unable to cope." 

There was a look of despair on the honest young 
Pilgrim's face. Mathew waited a moment, as if 
reconnoitring the ground before approaching so 
delicate a subject, and then asked: 


"Who is your rival? " 

"Captain Miles Standish. He is lonely since 
he laid his beautiful wife Eose in her grave, and 
now he looks with favor on the beautiful Priscilla." 

Mathew, who had never met a rival in love, or 
a foe whom he feared in battle, was astonished that 
his friend should dread even Miles Standish as a 

"You are younger than the captain and, I 
fancy, more to her liking. Why don't you go in 
and win her? " 

"I would; but this is a matter of honor," John 
Alden sighed, giving his head a shake which 
seemed to emphasize what he said. 

"Woo Priscilla fairly and honorably." 

"How can I? Captain Standish is my friend, 
he hath confided his love to me, and it would now 
be base in me to betray him. Not only did he tell 
me of his love, but asked me to aid him." 

"And what answer did you make in return? " 

"I told him I would." 

Mathew could not clearly see any way out of the 
difficulty. It looked as if honest John Alden 
had b by his voluntary act lost all chance for win- 
ning Priscilla. After a few moments, he said: 

"Why did you not tell Captain Standish that 
you loved Priscilla and wished to wed her your- 

Vol. 510 


"How could I? Captain Standish is my friend. 
Since I came to the New World, his roof hath 
been my home. In danger and sickness he hath 
been at my side, and he once saved my life at the 
risk of his own. He told me of his love for Pris- 
cilla, and asked me to aid him win her, and I 
I promised to do so." 

A friend of the present day would have given 
John a look of contempt and dismissed him 
with a word of ridicule; but Mathew Stevens of 
old Plymouth was a different species of genus 
homo from the average young man of to-day. He 
saw something ridiculous in the cool manner in 
which his friend had surrendered his sweetheart; 
but it was a sacred promise and must not be broken. 

"I don't think I would have done so, John," 
he finally remarked. 

"Do you count friendship for naught? " 

" No; but you go farther than I would, even for 
a friend. There are bounds at even which friend- 
ship must call a halt." 

There are some sympathetic natures whose own 
woes are swallowed up in the misery of others. 
Mathew was one of that class, and for some time 
he thought more of John Alden's hopeless love 
than of his own affairs. 

It was several days before he again met Alice. 
She seemed to avoid him, and he, as if affrighted 


at his own proposal, kept aloof from her. When 
they met it was by accident. 

There was a world of pleasure mingled with a 
universe of woe in that meeting. The sight of her 
vividly recalled to his mind the triumphant leer 
on the face of Francis Billington, along with his 

" Her mother was White when a maid, is still 
White. Was she ever married?" 

"Alice," he said with a smile, as he went to 
her side and sat down on the mossy bank of the 
brook. The mere breathing of that name conveyed 
a world of tenderness, and yet she knew not why, 
she shuddered. He sought to take her hand; but 
she gently withdrew it. 

"Have I offended you, Alice?" 


"I wanted to see you." 

After a moment's silence, during which the 
roguish eyes sought the little stream, she an- 
swered : 

" Why have you kept away? " 

"I did not know that I would be welcome." 

"Mathew, you know you are always welcome." 

Then followed a long silence. A great struggle 
was going on in Mathew 's breast. Should he speak 
out at once and tell her what Billington had said 
and at what he had hinted? No, he could not do 


that. It might cause her useless grief, annoyance 
and humiliation. After a few moments he asked: 

"Alice, do you know Francis Billington? " 

She started as suddenly, as if a bombshell had 
exploded at her feet, while her face turned deathly 
pale, and she feebly answered: 


"Did you know him in London?" 

"I have seen him." 


"At mother's house. I was never intimate with 
him, because I never liked him. " 

"Does your mother know him? " 


She betrayed such an aversion to the subject, 
that Mathew'was constrained to change it. He 
found the dread and suspicion, which, like an op- 
pressive weight, had hung over his spirit, diminish- 
'ing; but, brave as he was he had not the courage 
to advance any further in that direction. There 
was a grinning skeleton in the closet, and he dared 
not open the door. After a long silence he 
asked : 

"Alice, did you tell your mother of our be- 

"I have had no opportunity," she answered 
with a sigh. 



"She has been so busy with other matters; but 
why need we haste? " 

"Why need we delay? Both of us are young, 
and it is in the spring-time of life that buds from 
different trees are engrafted in a parent stem, so 
they may grow in beauty and harmony with each 
other. When two branches have grown old and 
set in their ways, a union is productive of more 
misery than happiness." 

She made no direct answer to this, but with 
some evasive response sought to change the sub- 
ject to something less embarrassing. He was blunt 
and direct for he had been trained in a school 
where deceit was unknown. After a few moments 
he asked : 

" Alice, do you remember your father? " 

"My father?" 



"He died too early for you to remember him? " 

Strange as it may seem, she had never given 
her father a thought. After a moment's silence a 
silence as awkward as it was painful she answered: 

"I suppose he did." 

" Did you ever hear your mother speak of him? " 


There was a strange, embarrassed look in her 
face, which caused Mathew's heart to sink. 


" Alice, what was your father's name? " 

"White, of course." 

"His surname?" 

"I don't know." 

"Have you no portrait of him? " 

"I have not." 

"Did you ever hear your mother speak of 


Then she fixed her great blue eyes on him and 
asked : 

"Why all these questions? " 

"I am interested in you, Alice," he answered. 
" And, being interested in you, it is only natural 
that I should likewise be interested in your father. 
Where were you born? " 

"My earliest recollections are of Plymouth, 

" How long did you live there? " 

" I do not know. I was quite young when we 
removed from there to the Downs, where we lived 
but a short time." 

" Did you see or hear anything of your father?" 

"No; mother was with me all the time, save 
when I remained a few weeks or months with my 
uncle William White." 

' Was your uncle William White always living 
near you? " 


"Not all the time; but I believe lie was most of 
the time." 

" When did you go to Lincolnshire on the 
Humber where I first met you? " 

"I was but six years old." 

The girl's answers were all frank, free, and hon- 
est. There was no attempt to evade his questions. 
Her very look of innocence seemed to defy investi- 

"Alice, when did you first see Francis Bil- 

"I remember him in Plymouth." 

" Was he a friend of your mother? " 

"No. On the contrary, his presence always 
seemed to distress her," she answered. 

"Why should it?" 

"Alas, I know not," she answered, tears start- 
ing to her eyes. "He is a mystery I cannot 

" Have you asked your mother to explain it? " 

"I have; but I learned nothing save that she 
fears and hates him." 

Alice was now weeping, and Mathew questioned 
her no more about family secrets. 

"Don't think I care aught for your ancestry, 
Alice," he said. "God has intended us for each 
other, and I would wed you, even though a veil of 
mystery ten times heavier hung o'er the past. 


Think no more of Billington and mystery, but 
name at once our wedding day." 

"Not now," she answered. 

"Why not? You say you love me; why longer 

" Not now, not now. " 

She rose and, wiping away the tears which 
trickled down her cheeks, started home. Mathew 
accompanied her to the door of her mother's cot- 
tage, and then returned to Mr. Brewster's. 

A pair of grayish, basilisk eyes glared at the 
young couple from a thicket as they walked to the 
cabin, and a hoarse voice hissed: 

"Revenge is sweet! " 

It was Billington. Satan beheld not the happi- 
ness of Adam and Eve with more devilish envy, 
than he noted the love of Mathew and Alice. 

The mother was not at home when Alice en- 
tered. She had gone to visit a sick neighbor and 
did not return until the industrious daughter had 
spread the snowy cloth and prepared the evening 
meal. Supper was dispatched in silence, and when 
the table was cleared away, Alice turned to her 
mother and asked: 

" Mother, who who was my father? " 

Sarah White fixed her eyes on her daughter and 

"Who put that into your head? " 


" I am no longer a child, but a woman. I have 
a right to know something of my father." 

"Do not mention the subject now, Alice." 

"But I must, mother." 

"No no not now. Wait until some other 
time; not now." 

"The time has come. You will wrong your 
daughter by denying her the knowledge she 

"Why, child, why? " and the brilliancy of Mrs. 
White's eyes startled and almost alarmed Alice. 
She spoke quickly, and her hot breath came in 
gasps, while her whole frame trembled with emo- 

" Mother, I must know. An honest man hath 
won my heart and now asks my hand. Your 
name is White. Your brother William was named 
White, you were White when a maid you are 
still White. Who was my father? Did I ever 
have a father? " 


"Tell me all." 


Alice shrank from the firm, almost fierce glance 
into a further corner, and for a moment cowered 
beneath her great flashing eyes. 

"Mother! mother!" she murmured. "Are you 
mad? are you mad? An honest man hath asked 


my hand. Can I give him a nameless bride? 
Who am I? What am I? Mother, what was my 
father's name?" 

" Hush ! mention not his name. It is accursed ! " 

"But I must know," she cried in her despair. 

Falling on her knees, the mother raised her 
hands imploringly to Heaven and, with heart 
overflowing with anguish, cried: 

"Alice, Alice, don't tear the veil from that 
hideous secret! Spare me, oh 'save me, and spare 
yourself, or you will bring upon your own head 
the doom which I have so long prayed might be 
averted! " 

Alice uttered a shriek and, staggering across 
the floor, fell in a swoon. As her mother raised 
her in her arms, a hand tore away the paper from 
the window, an ugly head looked in, and a hoarse 
voice muttered: 

"The skeleton in the closet. Ha, ha, ha, ha! 
hear its bones rattle! " 



Friendship, like love, is but a name, 
Unless to one you stint the flame. 
The child whom many fathers share, 
Hath seldom known a father's care. 
Tis thus in friendship ; who depend 
On many, rarely find a friend. 


THE various nations which still pour their emi- 
gration into the new world had already begun to 
move that restless tide across the sea. French, 
Dutch, German, Scandinavian, Pole and Russian 
heard of the wonders across the ocean, and all 
alike were anxious to press forward into this new 
world and behold its wonders. Nations began to 
pride themselves on their colonies in the new con- 
tinent. Scheming monarchs and ambitious nobles 
laid many 'plans for extending their power; but 
to the poor and oppressed, America was ever a 
land of freedom. 

The Dutch, having founded the New Netherland 
and the city of New Amsterdam (now New York), 


began with resistless vigor pushing their explora-r 
tions and traffic in every direction. They even 
went as far as Narragansett and Cape Cod Bays in 
search of fur-bearing animals. The growling of 
the English monarch and the threats of his officials 
seemed to have little effect on the Hollander, who 
smoked his pipe on the banks of the Hudson and 
pushed out in any direction where beaver or otter 
might be found. 

Captain Block, who built the first log cabin on 
Manhattan Island, had discovered the Connecticut 
River and named it Fresh Water, and as he had 
looked into the Narragansett Bay, the Dutch felt 
that they had a legal claim upon those regions 
according to the English doctrine of the right of 
discovery. In 1623, three years after the landing 
of the Pilgrim Fathers at Plymouth Rock, the 
Dutch West India Company took possession of all 
the lands drained by the Connecticut River in the 
name of the company and of the States-General of 

For a while a peaceful and profitable trade was 
carried on with the natives of the Connecticut 
Valley by the Dutch, and this might have con- 
tinued had not the latter seized one of their chiefs 
and demanded a heavy reward for his release. 
The savages threatened the Dutch with vengeance, 
and they, becoming alarmed, built a fort for 


their protection near the present city of Hartford 
at a point called "Dutch Point." For a time the 
whites and red men threatened each other with 
extermination; but at last the Indians were paci- 
fied, and at their request the Dutch abandoned 
the fort. 

A friendly intercourse opened up between the 
Dutch at Manhattan and the Puritans at New Plym- 
outh. It was natural that such an intercourse 
would be friendly, for many of the emigrants to 
the New Netherland had been personal acquaint- 
ances and friends of the Pilgrims while at Leyden, 
and they carried with them that friendly feeling 
across the ocean. Early in 1627, Isaac de Rasieries, 
secretary of the colony of New Netherland, by 
order of Governor Minuit, wrote a letter to Gov- 
ernor Bradford of Plymouth, officially informing 
him of the founding of a settlement and province 
on the Mauritius or Hudson's River, and assuring 
him that the Hollanders wished to cultivate friendly 
and commercial relations with the Pilgrims. Brad- 
ford returned these friendly greetings and well 
wishes; but in his reply he warned the Dutch not 
to occupy or trade in the country north of the 
fortieth degree of latitude, as that region was 
claimed by the council of New England. He ex- 
pressed a wish to maintain friendly relations with 
the New Netherland, and proposed not to molest 


the Dutch, provided they refrained from trading 
with the natives on the waters to the very doors of 
the English. Minuit maintained that the Dutch 
had a right to traffic with the Narragansetts as they 
had done for years. 

" As the English claim authority under the king 
of England," he argued, "so we derive ours from 
the States-General in Holland." Bradford was 
in no condition to contend with the Dutch, for his 
feeble colony could not have resisted their power. 
He wrote to the Council for New England stating 
the situation, and concluded with: 

"For strength of men and fortifications, they 
far excel us in all this land." 

The governor of New Plymouth made no an- 
swer to Minuit's letter, and the latter, grown 
impatient with delay, sent a messenger to New 
Plymouth to invite Governor Bradford to send 
a deputy to Manhattan to confer orally with the 
authorities there. The messenger took with him a 
"rundlet of sugar and two Holland cheeses" as a 
present for Bradford, who generously entertained 
him. It was agreed in that conference that a com- 
mission should be sent to New Plymouth to con- 
fer upon all matters of intercourse. 

Meanwhile, affairs at the colony had gone on 
without much change. Francis Billington showed 
his evil nature more every day. In the year 1621, 


as Captain Miles Standish was training a company 
of Puritan soldiers, preparatory to an expedition 
into the forest, Billington displayed a spirit of 
insubordination, quite at variance with the captain's 
ideas of military discipline. Standish repeated his 

"I will not obey," declared Billington, and he 
walked from the ranks and sat down upon a log. 

"Francis Billington, take your place in the 
ranks," commanded the captain. 

"I will not," Billington defiantly cried, and 
gave vent to the most opprobrious language. 

Captain Standish took a step toward him, his 
face flaming with rage. The rebel started to his 
feet and, laying his hand on his musket, cried: 

"I warn you, come no nearer, lest I send a bul- 
let through you! " 

The match in his gun was not lighted, or no 
doubt he would have carried out his threat; but 
even had the match been lighted, Miles Standish 
would not have hesitated. Like a tiger, he leaped 
at the malcontent and seized him by the throat. 

Billington was a powerful man and struggled to 
free himself. Mathew Stevens came to the aid of 
Captain Standish, and they quickly bound the 
brawling fellow. He was "convicted before the 
whole company for his contempt of Captain Stan- 
dish's lawful command with opprobrious speeches; 


for which he was adjudged to have his neck and 
heels tied together; but, upon humbling himself 
and craving pardon, and it being the first offence, 
he was forgiven." Though Billington was saved 
from punishment, he never forgave either Standish 
or Stevens. For revenge on Mathew Stevens, he 
had a weapon in the mysterious power he wielded 
over the mother of Alice. 

"They never shall wed," Billington declared. 

Mathew noted a great change in Alice. They 
met less frequently, and she seemed to avoid him. 
He mentioned their betrothal one day, and urged 
her to fix the day for their wedding. 

"No, no; we must wait," she sighed. "I can- 
not consent to be your bride while a mystery hangs 
over me." 

Years glided slowly by, the seasons came and 
passed, and day by day they approached nearer to 
the shores of that great eternity. They might have 
wed and lived happily, had she not been too proud 
to bring to the altar the skeleton of some dead secret. 

Mathew received letters from Holland and friends 
in England. Through them he learned that Hans 
Van Brunt had left for New Netherland to build 
up a home for himself and the girl he loved. 
When Minuit's messenger came to Plymouth to con- 
fer with Governor Bradford, he brought a letter 
from Hans at New Amsterdam. Hans declared: 


"We have the most goodly country I have ever seen. 
Come and live with us, and you shall have all the land 
you want, and you can bring over Honora Van Buren, 
who smiles upon you still, from Leyden, to be your wife. 
Katharine will soon come to America, and it would be a 
joy to have Honora come with her. " f 

Mathew sighed. The prospective happiness of 
his friend cast a deeper gloom over himself, for he 
despaired of wedding the one he loved, and had 
resolved to pass his life alone. When he met 
Alice, which was seldom, the meetings were pro- 
ductive of more pain than pleasure. Though he 
did all in his power to make her life happy, he 
avoided her, and she avoided him. Every Sab- 
bath they met at public worship, and frequently 
knelt side by side in prayer. On such holy occa- 
sions they sometimes exchanged glances of fond- 
ness and regret. Mathew was still Sarah White's 
best friend. He tilled her corn and planted her 
wheat; he harvested her grain, and prepared her 
fuel. This was no easy task, for, as the colony 
improved, the forest receded, until wood had to be 
brought a long distance. 

The year 1627 came with very little change to 
the colony. King Charles I. had been two years on 
the throne of England ; but that' had no effect on 
the Pilgrims. Already they had begun to dream 
of freedom and future greatness. The early au- 
tumn brought golden grain and smiling prosperity 

Vol. 511 


to them. Hundreds of people had emigrated to 
America to join their brothers who had gone before. 
The village had grown, and other plantations been 
formed. Mathew was returning from his labors 
in the field with heavy heart, although the birds 
sang gayly, and the abundant harvest should have 
made all hearts glad. He paused beneath a great 
oak tree and, wiping the perspiration from his 
face, heaved a sigh as he gazed toward the home 
of Alice. 

"Is it never to be? " he thought. 

Suddenly upon the evening air came a blast of 
trumpets from the shore. Naturally, he was filled 
with curiosity to know whence issued the sound of 
those trumpets, and he saw a band of men, quaintly 
dressed with short breeches, wide-topped boots, or 
shoes with buckles, wearing broad-brimmed hats 
and short cloaks. It was De Easieries' 'commis- 
sion, which had arrived with a bark laden with 
wampum, and other things for traffic. Landing, 
with De Easieries at their head, they awoke the 
sleeping echoes of the forest with the noise of 

At this moment, one of the Pilgrims gave utter- 
ance to a cry: 

"The Dutch have come! The Dutch have 
come! " 

Governor Bradford and Captain Miles Standish 


made all preparations possible on so short a notice 
for the reception of the commissioners from New 
Amsterdam. With braying trumpets and loud 
shouts, the visitors entered New Plymouth and 
went direct to the governor's house. Suddenly, 
despite all pomp and "ceremony which both parties 
sought to maintain, a young Dutchman dashed 
from the ranks of his countrymen and ran to greet 
a young Englishman, who stood at one side of the 
path watching the procession. 



All efforts to get Hans back into the line of 
march were unavailing. The friends, separated so 
long, were clasped in each other's arms, and they 
little heeded any further ceremony. Mathew took 
Hans home with him, for they wished to be alone, 
as they had so much to talk about. As soon as 
they were safely ensconced in Mathew's small room, 
seated side by side on the rude bench which 
adorned the house of the Pilgrim, Mathew asked: 

" How do you like America? " 

" It is the most goodly country I ever knew, 
and I have been in Holland, France and England." 

"Is Katharine yet in New Amsterdam? " 

"No;, yet she will come," Hans answered. 
" Why will you not come and live in our country? " 

"I have made my home here so long, that it 


would grieve my heart to leave it now," Mathew 
answered with a sigh. 

" We have many English among us," said Hans. 
" There is one I now remember, who was persecuted 
on account of his religion, for he was a Catholic. 
He could not live in England any more than a 

"Where is he now? " 

"He went to Lord Baltimore's colony in Mary- 
land, where he belongs." 

" What was his name? " 


"I never knew him," Mathew said. 

" No; he never went to Leyden, though I believe 
he was in Eotterdam. I never saw him until we 
met at New Amsterdam." Then Hans went on 
talking of the Catholic, whom he described as a 
man who never smiled and would not speak of his 
past life. So deeply did the young Hollander 
impress the strange character of the man upon 
Mathew, that he could not eradicate the recollec- 
tion of him from his mind. 

The commissioners were hospitably entertained 
for several days at the table of the governor, where 
sat Elder Brewster, Mathew Stevens, Miles Stan- 
dish, Edward Winslow, Dr. Fuller and many other 
passengers of the Mayflower. When the Sabbath 
came, the commissioners were invited to attend 


public worship, which they did. Mathew and 
Hans, who had been inseparable since the arrival of 
the latter, marched to church arm in arm, and 
sat side by side during the service. De Easieries 
gave a vivid description of the worship of the 
Puritans in a letter, from which we quote the 

" They assemble by beat of the drum, each with his 
musket or fire- lock, in front of the captain's door. They 
have their cloaks on and place themselves in order, three 
abreast, and are led by a sergeant without beat of drum. 
Behind conies the governor in a long robe. Beside him, 
on the right hand, conies the preacher, with his cloak on ; 
on the left hand, the captain, with his side-arms and his 
cloak on and with a small cane in his hand. And so they 
march in good order, and each sets his arms down near 
him. Thus they are constantly on their guard, night and 
day, for fear of the Indians, whose anger they have ex- 

In another letter, the secretary gives the follow- 
ing graphic description of New Plymouth: 

" It lies on a slope. The houses are constructed of hewn 
planks, with gardens also inclosed behind and at the sides 
with hewn timber ; so that their houses and court yards 
are arranged in very good order, with a stockade against 
sudden attack. At the ends of the streets are three wooden 
gates. In the centre, on the cross street, stands the gov- 
ernor's house, before which is a square inclosure, upon 
which four swivels are mounted, so as to flank along the 
streets. Upon the hill they have a large square house 
with a flat roof, made of thick sawn plank stayed with 


oak beams ; upon the top of which they have six cannon, 
which shoot balls of four or five pounds weight, and com- 
mand the surrounding country. The lower part they use 
for their church, where they preach on Sunday and the 
usual holidays. " 

Such was the capital of the English colony, only 
six years after the Pilgrims had landed from the 
Mayflower. Puritanic honesty, industry and love 
of freedom had already stamped its impress on the 
ancestors of a future nation. When compared with 
other colonies, which, like a flickering candle, dwin- 
dled for years and then went out, one must come 
to the conclusion that the great and good Creator 
of the universe gave a special blessing to those who 
came to build and plant in His name. Only six 
years in the new world, and the New Plymouth 
colony had convinced the most skeptical that it 
had come to stay. 

The commissioners from New Amsterdam opened 
a profitable trade between the two settlements, 
which led to the speedy planting of an English 
colony in the valley of the Connecticut. With a 
keen eye to self-interest, the Dutch advised the 
Pilgrims to leave their more sterile soil and make 
their home in the beautiful and fertile country on 
the banks of the Freshwater River, under the juris- 
diction of New Netherland. The fertility of that 
region was set forth in glowing terms, and the 


stories of the Dutch were confirmed by native 
chiefs. A Mohegan sachem, whose council fire 
was on the eastern banks of the Hudson, four years 
later visited the Puritan governor, and, with self- 
interest as strong as the Dutch, but rather more 
artfully concealed, urged the Pilgrims to settle in 
Connecticut. As an inducement to secure English 
influence, he offered to give them lands and an 
annual tribute of corn and beaver skins, if they 
would do so. The main object of the Mohegan 
chief was to so plant a barrier between his people 
and the powerful Pequods, whose seat was on the 
hills that stretch between New London and Ston- 
ington. The selfish policy of both parties was 
readily seen by the Puritans, and they resolved not 
to be used as cat's paws by either the Dutch or 
the Indians. 

Stories of "the pleasant meadows " along the 
Connecticut Eiver excited the attention of the 
English, so that, in 1632, Edward Winslow vis- 
ited that region. The country was, in truth, so 
delightful, that he confirmed all the Dutch traders 
and embassadors as well as the Indian chiefs had 
said about it. The fame of the Connecticut valley 
had already reached old England, and, in 1630, 
two years before Winslow's visit, the council for 
New England had granted the soil of that region 
to the Earl of Warwick. That nobleman conveyed 


his chartered rights to the domain to other parties, 
among them Lords Say, Seal, Brook, Mr. Sal ton - 
stall and others,^in 1632. In this conveyance the 
territory was defined as extending "in a certain 
width throughout the main lands there, from the 
western ocean to the South Sea," or from the 
Atlantic to the Pacific. These parties did not take 
immediate steps to colonize the Connecticut valley, 
and the ever vigilant Dutch got there before 
them. The Dutch purchased the territory of the 
rightful owners, the Indians, and Commissioner 
Van Curler completed the redoubt already begun on 
Dutch Point, named it Fort Good Hope, and armed 
it with cannon. 

Governor Winthrop was at Boston and Governor 
Bradford, Edward Winslow and Mathew Stevens 
went to him with a proposal for an alliance for the 
purpose of taking immediate possession of the Con- 
necticut Va-lley. Although Winthrop refused to 
join them in such an enterprise, he thought it nec- 
essary, in some formal way, to assert promptly and 
firmly the j urisdiction of the English over the now 
coveted region. He sent his bark the Blessing of 
the Bay on a trading voyage along Long Island 
Sound, her captain bearing a message to Manhattan 
declaring that the " King of England had granted 
the river and the country of the Connecticut to his 
own subjects, and that the Dutch must forbear to 


build there." The messenger and his companions 
were kindly received by Van Twiller, Minuit's 
successor, who, in a courteous letter to Winthrop, 
requested him to defer his pretence or claim to 
Connecticut, until their respective governments 
should agree upon the limit of the colonies. At 
the same time, Van Twiller informed Winthrop 
that the Dutch had already purchased the soil and 
"set up a house with intent to plant." 

In romance as in history, an author is sometimes 
compelled to push one thread of his fabric ahead of 
the others, for it is impossible to at all times keep 
the incidents even, especially when there are a 
great variety of characters to be woven into them. 
Having sufficiently advanced, for the present, the 
thread of Dutch and English diplomacy, we will 
now return to the first Dutch commission at Plym- 

Hans Van Brunt had come to New Plymouth in 
the hope that the Pilgrims could be induced to take 
up their abode within the jurisdiction of the Dutch. 
When they refused, and Mathew informed him of 
his determination to remain with them, the great- 
hearted Dutchman felt that his mission was a failure. 

While Mathew and Van Brunt were together, 
Billington played the part of a spy. Whether 
alone in the wood or at the home of Mathew, Bil- 
lington was ever near listening to what they said. 


Having it in his heart to injure Mathew, Billington 
was getting at his secrets. On the evening before 
the departure of De Rasieries' commissioners from 
New Plymouth, Billington, meeting Hans alone, 

"Come with me! " 

"What would you with me?" asked the be- 
wildered Dutchman. 

"I would talk with ye." 

Hans could see nothing wrong in conversing 
with the Englishman, so he followed him to his 
miserable house. When they entered, Billington 
made sure that they were alone and, carefully 
closing the door, bade the Hollander be seated. 

"Know ye a man named Eoby? " he asked. 

Hans fixed his great blue eyes on him, and then, 
in his Dutch innocence and simplicity, answered: 


"Where is he?" 

"I don't know." 

" Are ye quite sure he is not dead? " 

"I know he lives. He may be in Maryland." 

Billington cast a frightened glance about, as if 
half expecting to see a ghost arise out of the floor, 
and asked: 

"When did ye last see him? " 

"Less than half a year ago." 

"Then he is not dead," said Billington with a 


shudder. Eising from his seat, he paced the nar- 
row apartment for a moment, and then, resuming 
the stool, he asked: 

"Where did he go?" 

"I know not; perchance to Maryland." 

"And know ye not where he can be found? " 

" Indeed I do not. He was at New Amsterdam, 
but went away less than half a year ago." 

Billington seemed not to gain the information he 
sought, and shortly after his last question he dis- 
missed Hans. Left alone in his miserable hut, he 
sat with his head bowed in his hands, his brow 
contracted, and as a shudder ran through his frame, 
he hissed in a whisper: 

"He lives! he lives! and I am not safe. No, 
no; while he lives I am not safe. An ill wind 
might at any day blow him this way; then all is 
lost." His face was of a deathly color, and he 
trembled as if he had seen a spectre. 

Next day Hans and Mathew took a friendly 
farewell of each other, and the young Dutchman 
left with the commissioners for New Amsterdam. 



In the old colony days, in Plymouth, the land of the .Pil- 

To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling, 
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovian leather, 
Strode, with martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Cap- 


AN author enters on dangerous ground when he 
attempts to relate what has already become a house- 
hold story. Who has not heard the romance of 
Miles Standish, that daring, stern, gallant Puritan 
captain? His tale of love and disappointment has 
been repeated at every fireside for many genera- 
tions, until it is impossible to add new interest to 
the story. Yet a history of the Pilgrims would 
not be complete without it. Miles Standish has 
been made the incarnation of many a subtly-woven 
fancy ; yet it is not all fancy. There are wonder- 
ful facts in connection with his story, and from the 
various legends afloat we will attempt to winnow 
the truth. 

Poor John Alden's heart was breaking. He 


had come with his friend from old England, had 
shared the home of the gallant Miles Standish and 
had mourned with him when he laid his sweet 
young wife Eose to rest. 

Away back in old England, Alden had learned 
to love the fair Priscilla Mullins; but the young 
cooper was so timid and bashful that he dared not 
tell her. Like most bashful youths, he avoided 
the object which was to him the greatest attraction. 
Alden' s case seemed hopeless. He had promised 
Miles Standish to aid him in winning the fair Pris- 
cilla, and was too honorable to betray his friend, 
even to save himself from perpetual misery. As 
he sighed in secret, he sometimes murmured: 

"Priscilla! fairest flower of all New England, 
must I give thee up forever? " Then, conscience- 
smitten at even so much as breathing a regret, he 
cried: "Get thee hence behind me. Satan, I will 
do my duty! " 

Despite his resolution to do his duty, he could 
not repress the wish that Heaven would interpose 
to save him. Such a long period had elapsed since 
the captain told him of his love for Priscilla, that 
John Alden dared to hope that Miles had changed 
his mind; but the love within ihe heart of the 
gallant captain had not in the least abated its ardor. 
Shortly after the departure of the Dutch commis- 
sioners, Miles Standish said: 


"John, I want you to-day." 

"You have more letters to write, captain?" 
said John. 

The young cooper was the captain's amanuensis, 
for the comely young Puritan was the most skilful 
penman in all New England. 

"Yes," answered Captain Standish. 

"I will be ready to serve you." 

There was something in the manner of Captain 
Standish, which John Alden did not understand. 
He shuddered with a vague, unknown dread, just 
as one sometimes shrinks from an evil which they 
know by instinct must befall them. 

When alone in the room, Miles Standish said: 

"The ship sails on the morrow for England. 
Here are many important documents to go. 
Write letters to these persons on the subjects I 
have indicated," and he held up before the young 
Puritan a list of names and the subject matter on 
which they should be addressed. It was an easy 
task for so skilful a penman as John Alden, and, 
breathing a prayer of thanks that the communica- 
tions had no reference to Priscilla, he set about his 
task as if it were a labor of love. 

Captain Standish took up his favorite volume, 
the campaigns of Julius Caesar, and read in silence. 
Nothing was heard save the hurrying of the pen of 
John Alden, hastily writing epistles to go by the 


next ship. With mind and heart filled with Pris- 
cilla, every sentence began and closed with her 
name, until the treacherous pen began at last to 
disclose his secret; then he stopped, tore out the 
sheet and quietly destroyed it. 

The story of Mathew Stevens' hopeless love 
often appealed to him in his hours of bitterest 
anguish, and he asked himself: 

"Is my misery greater than his? If he bears in 
silence a grief that must consume his heart, why 
should not I?" 

Recalled to his task by the captain closing his 
book, he had once more taken up his pen, when 
Miles Standish said: 

"When you have finished your work, I have 
something important to tell you. Be not in haste 
however so that you slight anything; I can wait; 
I shall not be impatient." 

Once more John Alden felt his heart sink. In- 
tuitively he knew that dread announcement of love 
was coming, and mentally ejaculated: 

"Priscilla, must I give you up! " 

But loyal, even unto death, he hastily finished 
the last letter, and, folding it, pushed the papers 
aside to give respectful attention. This was an age 
when people spoke in blank verse. It was an age 
of Shakespeare, Spencer, and Johnson, when liter- 
ature, awaking from its long slumber, assumed a 


new and hitherto unknown vigor. It was an age 
of sentiment as well as rhetoric, for what lover of 
the present would sacrifice his life's happiness for 
his friend? Aloud, John Alden spoke: 

"I am always ready to hear what pertains to 
Miles Standish." 

The captain after a short and embarrassed silence 
began : 

" The Scriptures say it is not good for man to 
dwell alone. I have felt the full force and effect 
of these words of holy writ. Since Kose Standish 
died of famine and fever, my life hath been a 
dreary one, sick at heart beyond the healing of 
friendship. In my loneliness I have turned my 
eyes in all directions seeking one to take the place 
made vacant at my hearthstone." 

All hope sank beneath Alden's mental horizon. 
The dread hour had come. Priscilla, his light, 
life, hope and joy was lost. Like a condemned 
criminal, listening to his death sentence, Alden 
waited for what he knew would follow. Without 
knowing the agony his words wrung from the heart 
of his young friend, Captain Miles Standish went 

"Oft in my lonely hours have I turned my 
thought to the maiden Priscilla. She, alone of all 
I know, is most capable of filling the place made 
vacant in my home. She is all alone in the world 


as I am. I saw her coming and going, now at the 
grave of the dead, and now at the bed of the dying, 
patient, courageous and strong, and to myself I 
thought her one of the ministering angels of earth. 
I have long cherished a love for her which I am 
too cowardly to declare. There is no danger how- 
ever great which Miles Standish will not defy; yet, 
when it comes to affairs of love, he is a coward, 
and dares not speak the dictates of his heart; but 
in you I have a friend noble and faithful, with a 
tongue of silver to frame words suited for such a 
declaration. Go to Priscilla Mullins, and to her 
say that the blunt old captain, a man of actions 
rather than words, offers her the heart and hand of 
a soldier. You are a scholar bred, say it all in 
elegant language, such as never dawns in the minds 
of the illiterate." 

When he had finished speaking, John Alden 
stood aghast, trying to conceal his anguish and 
dismay. Had his friend given him his sword and 
told him to plunge it to the hilt in his own heart, 
the task could not have been performed with more 
reluctance; but he had given his word, and a Puri- 
tan's word was as binding as his oath. So long 
sat he silent and motionless, that the captain, grow- 
ing impatient at his delay, asked: 

"Have you marked well all I have said? " 

"I have." 

Vol. 512 


"And will you bear the message? " 

"I will. John Alden's word once given, he 
cannot break it. I promised to give you my aid; 
but then I did not dream that I was to be an em- 

"Do you shrink from the task? " 

"It is an important one, and a great responsibil- 
ity rests upon me." 

"Yet you can win, John. Your words are al- 
ways well chosen, and you never err." 

"In this matter it would be better if you were 
your own messenger." 

"I am slow of speech; you must do it." 

"Such a message; lam sure I should mangle 
and mar it; if you would have it well done, 
you should do it yourself and not leave it to 

Standish was not to be turned from his original 
plan. He insisted on his friend being his embas- 
sador, and John Alden, having consented, could 
not back out. 

With a thousand conflicting emotions swaying 
his tortured soul, Alden set out on his errand 
strange errand indeed to ask one whom he loved 
more than life to become the wife of another ; but 
with that firm and unswerving integrity which 
ever holds the faithful and noble to the path of 
duty, he set forth on his strange mission. 


Out of the village and into the paths of the 
forest, those tranquil woods where blue jays and 
robins were busy preparing nests, and where feath- 
ered warblers made gladdest music, he strode. 
The peace and happiness which reigned all about 
him was in strange contrast with the conflict raging 
within his breast love contending with friendship, 
and self with generous impulse. 

"Must I relinquish all?" he cried with wild 

Hope, joy and love were only illusions, bright 
dreams, fondly cherished, but, alas, only dreams. 
He loved, waited and worshipped in silence, fol- 
lowed with flying feet a shadow over the wintry 
sea to the desolate shores of New England. Oh, 
cruelj bitter dreams, thrice cruel and bitter the 
illusive hopes roused in the fond breast to be 
dashed to earth ! 

Thus, with bitter feelings, the young Puritan 
strode forth through the wood to the home of the 
one who held his happiness and destiny in keeping. 
Journeying on, he saw through an open space the 
disk of the ocean, sailless, sombre and drear. To 
the left was a newly-built house, and people were 
working in the fields. Drawing nearer, he heard 
the music of the spinning-wheel, which was accom- 
panied by the sweet voice of the Puritan maid 
singing psalms. The music of the spinning-wheel 


and the cheerful voice of the worshipper at work 
are no longer heard in the land. The old-fashioned 
spinning-wheel, with all its pleasant memories, has 
been relegated to the attic, where it lingers only as 
a curious relic of the past. 

Priscilla was seated beside her wheel, with the 
carded wool like a snow-drift piled at her knee, 
her left hand feeding the singing spindle, while 
with her right she guided the motion of her machine. 
Such was the Puritan girl of the forest, "making 
the humble house and modest apparel of homespun 
beautiful with her beauty and rich with the wealth 
of her being." Never did Priscilla seem so charm- 
ing as when, in her modest simplicity, she praised 
God and plied her work. Overwhelmed with de- 
spair, John Alden paused for a single moment and 
clung to the door for support. 

Kemembrance of his errand spurred him on, 
and he entered. 

"Let duty be done, though the heavens fall," he 
thought, and then, determined to deliver the mes- 
sage, though it rend his heart in twain, he entered 
the house. 

With a smile that seemed born in Heaven, Pris- 
cilla rose and welcomed him to her home, and, 
taking his hat and staff, laid them away, while she 
brought such simple refreshments as the Puritans 
entertained their visitors with. 


"Do you feel lonely, Priscilla? " he asked, after 
a brief silence. 

"Lonely, oh, so lonely! " she answered with a 

Well might she feel lonely, for she had been of 
all kindred bereft. Her father, William Mullins, 
one of the signers of the Mayflower compact, had 
early sickened and died, leaving her alone in the 

For a moment, John Alden sat in embarrassed 
silence, and then, for the want of something better, 
remarked : 

"You have many friends, Priscilla." 

"Many who are dear to me," she answered, tak- 
ing up a bundle of wool rolls and adjusting them 
so they might be most convenient for her spindle. 

" You know Alice White, the maid of near your 
own age?" asked John. 

"She is my dearest friend, and, like me, hath 
had her sorrows, yet I am sure they are different, 
for there is some strange mystery about her, which 
I cannot fathom." 

" Why does she not wed Mathew? " 

"She says she will never wed. ?3 

"Yet he loves her." 

" So I have thought, and I believe that his love 
is returned." 

"Did they quarrel?" 


"I know not, yet it would seem so." 

Then John Alden, trembling, hesitated on the 
brink of his strange mission. A little longer would 
he put off that awful fate. How he dreaded the 
issue that was to come. 

"Are you satisfied with your New England 
home? " he asked. To which she answered: 

" I have been dreaming all night and thinking 
all day." 

" Of what do you think? of what do you dream?" 
he asked. 

"Of the hedge-rows of England they are in 
blossom now, and the country is all like a garden. 
I dream, I think of lanes and fields and the song 
of the lark and linnet. I see the village street and 
familiar faces of neighbors come and go as of old, 
or stop to gossip together. At the end of the street 
is the village church, with ivy clinging to the old 
gray tower, and the quiet graves in the church- 
yard. The people with whom I live are kind, my 
religion is dear to my heart, still I grow sad and 
long to be once more back among the scenes of my 

John listened in silence to the maid, his gaze 
fixed on the floor. The supreme moment had 
come. Duty stared him in the face and said, 
"Now do or die! " In a voice husky and trem- 
bling, he made answer: 


"You long to return to England; indeed, I can- 
not blame you. Stouter hearts have quailed in 
these trying times. Yours is tender and trusting 
and needs a stronger to lean on, so I have come 
with an offer of marriage, made by the truest man 
in all New England, Captain Miles Standish." 

John Alden found it impossible to embellish his 
theme; for he had to tear the words from his heart. 
For a brief moment amazement sat enthroned on 
the face of the Puritan maid. Then, somewhat 
recovering her self-possession, she said: 

" If Captain Standish is so very eager to wed 
me, why does he not come himself and take the 
trouble to woo me? If I am not worth the wooing, 
surely I am not worth the winning." 

John Alden, in his eagerness to prove the loyal 
embassador, for the moment forgot his own love 
and strove to smooth matters over for his friend, 
making them worse as he advanced: 

" The captain is very busy and has no time for 
such things himself, so he has deputized me to 
bear his message." 

The Puritan maid did not fancy being courted 
by proxy, and the words of the embassador fell 
harshly on her ear. Swift as flash she made 
answer : 

" He has no time for such things, as you call it, 
before marriage, would he find time after the wed- 


ding? That is the way with you men; you do not 
understand us. When you have made up your 
mind which you will reject and which you will 
choose, then you make known your desire, and are 
offended and hurt that a woman does not respond 
at once to a love of which she never before dreamed. 
Is this just or right? Surely a woman's affection 
is not a thing to be asked for and had only for the 
asking. When one is truly in love, he betrays 
more by loving actions than words. Had he but 
waited awhile, had he only showed that he loved 
me, perhaps who knows? at last he might have 
won me, old and rough as he is; but now it can 
never happen." 

Not until John Alden found his friend's cause 
failing, did he enter with heart and zeal into the 
conquest. He no longer thought of himself, but 
the anguish of a betrayed friend. He pleaded in 
words tender and eloquent the cause of Miles 
Standish, and sounded his praises in the ears of the 
mischievous maiden, who began at last to enjoy the 
novel experience. At last, when he paused after 
an eloquent appeal, Priscilla, fixing her roguish 
eyes on the face of the young .diplomat, asked : 

"Prythee, John, why do you not speak for 
yourself? " 

Like a clap of thunder from a cloudless sky fell 
those words on the ears of John Alden. Never 


[John Alden loved Priscilla Mullins, whom Captain Miles Standish 
wished to wed. Captain Standish sent John as his ambassador to woo 
the fair Priscilla. But she refused to be wooed by proxy, and gave 
John a hint that convinced him that his own chances were better than 


was man more supremely happy; never was man 
plunged in deeper misery. While his heart was 
bounding at one moment with the joyous knowl- 
edge that he was beloved, at the next he was tor- 
tured with the pangs of a guilty conscience for 
having betrayed a friend. He never had a clear 
recollection of that interview. Joy and remorse 
were so intermingled in his heart that his brain was 
confused, and he could scarcely realize that he was 
not dreaming. 

" Fierce in his soul was the struggle and tumult of passion 

contending ; 
Love triumphant and crowned, and friendship wounded 

and bleeding." 

How dared he meet Captain Miles Standish and 
tell him all? So long had the Puritan captain 
been accustomed to have his will obeyed, that he 
never thought for a moment that Priscilla Mullins 
would reject his suit. He had forgotten it was 
"leap year, when English maids have the privilege 
of wooing." He awaited with some impatience the 
return of his embassador from the court of cupid. 
Anon, he saw him coming down the path, 'with 
provokingly slow and hesitating tread. Captain 
Standish, cleaning his fire-lock, waited in patience 
the arrival of John Alden. 

The embassador entered in silence. The face of 
Captain Standish was firm, and the scowl of war 


was on his forehead. There was a gathering of 
men near the church with arms, and from Mathew 
Stevens John Alden heard the rumor of a threat- 
ened Indian outbreak. A chief, driven to desper- 
ation by the act of some men, not a party of the 
Pilgrims, had sent as a challenge a bundle of ar- 
rows and a serpent's skin. The governor had re- 
turned the skin of the rattlesnake filled with 
powder and bullets. 

There was little time for wooing now, yet Cap- 
tain Standish awaited the report of his embassador 
before going forth to war. 

" Well, what answer does she make? " he asked, 
when he entered. 

Then John Alden, as if every word had been 
wrung in anguish from his heart, told all. Miles 
Standish listened to the end, and when he con- 
cluded with Priscilla's words, "Prythee, John, 
why do you not speak for yourself? " he leaped 
to his feet with such a sudden start as to make 
the armor he wore ring from the shock, and in a 
voice hoarse with rage cried: 

"John Alden, you have betrayed me! You 
have betrayed and supplanted your friend. Who 
could blame me for slaying the man who hath be- 
trayed me? You, who have lived under my roof, 
whom I cherished and loved as a brother; you, 
who have fed at my board and drunk at my cup, 


to whose keeping I have entrusted my honor, my 
thoughts and my sacred secret. Oh, woe to the 
name of friendship hereafter! " 

Having given way to this outburst of rage, he 
suddenly left the house and hurried to the council 
of war. 

Alden sat like one crushed and broken with a 
guilty conscience. Was it a crime to love? Surely 
one would think so to behold his agony at having 
loved Priscilla. He could not wholly free his con- 
science from the thought that he had betrayed his 

Miles Standish with his warriors went to meet 
and humble the savages, while John Alden, who 
had never before been left on such expeditions, 
was ignored. All night he thought on the future, 
and at dawn his resolution was taken. A ship 
sailed for England that day, and he resolved to go 
with it. 

Hastily gathering together his few effects, he 
went to the beach intending to embark. But here 
he met Priscilla, who, by her artful ways and 
sweet, encouraging words, induced him to change 
his mind. Before many days had elapsed, John 
Alden was the happiest man in the colony. He 
had spoken for himself and Priscilla had accepted 
his offer of marriage. 

The wedding of John Alden and Priscilla Mul- 


lins was the first marriage in New England. As 
the bridal party was returning from church, they 
met Miles Standish, Mathew Stevens and their 
warriors just come back from the field of victory, 
bearing the head of the belligerent chief on a pole. 
There was a pause, a look of horror on the part of 
the bridal party and one of surprise on the part of 
the soldiers. When the returning victors under- 
stood what all this rejoicing was about, the ghastly 
trophy of savage warfare was put out of sight, and 
the soldiers hastened to extend their congratula- 
tions to the newly wedded pair. After others had 
expressed their congratulations, Miles Standish, 
advancing, took his friend's hand and said: 

" Forgive me. I have been angry and hurt. 
Too long have I cherished the feeling ; I have been 
cruel and hard; but now, thank God, it is ended. 
Never so much as now was Miles Standish the 
friend of John Alden." 

To which Alden answered: 

"Let all be forgotten save the dear old friend- 
ship, and that shall grow dearer with age. " 



Yet better were this mountain wilderness, 
And this wild life of danger and distress, 
Watchings by night and perilous flight by day, 
And meetings in the depths of earth to pray, 
Better, far better, than to kneel with them, 
And pay the impious rite, thy laws condemn. 


WHILE the private affairs of the principal char- 
acters in this story were taking those strange shapes 
by which a capricious destiny moulds and fashions 
human life, we have seen a nation forming about 
them. The individual is so intimately and insep- 
arably connected with the history of his country, 
that a complete biography of even the humblest 
American citizen must necessarily include a portion 
of his country's history. Every American is part 
and parcel of this great commonwealth, and his 
country's destiny is his own, whatever his station 
in life may be. 

While the colony at New Plymouth was strug- 
gling in its early existence, some English Puritans, 



restless under the growing despotism of King 
Charles, began to turn their anxious eyes to New 
England. Under White, the Dorchester Company 
tried but failed to establish a colony at Cape Ann. 

In the year 1630, Winthrop in the Arabella 
came to the colony of Higginson at Salem, where 
he found the people wasting away by fever and 
famine. Not pleased with Salem, Winthrop, on 
the 17th of June, entered Boston Harbor. He 
ascended the Mystic several miles and took back a 
favorable report to Salem. Dudley and others who 
followed preferred the country on the Charles Eiver 
at Watertown. By common consent, early in 
July, the removal of most of the colonists from 
Salem to Charlestown took place. Although it 
was the original intention of the emigrants to dwell 
together, yet, in their distress, they planted wher- 
ever they were inclined. A few remained at Salem ; 
others halted at Saugus and founded Lynn. Gov- 
ernor Wiuthrop for awhile held his office at Charles- 
town, where the poor "lay up and down in tents 
and booths round the hill." 

On the other side of the river, the little peninsula, 
scarcely two miles long by one broad, marked by 
three hills and blessed with sweet and pleasant 
springs, safe pastures and land that promised " rich 
cornfields and fruitful gardens," attracted, among 
others, William Coddington of Boston, England, 


who built the first good house there, and who may 
be regarded as the founder of the great city of 
Boston. Some planted on the Mystic in what is 
now Maiden. Others, with Sir Richard Salton- 
stall and George Philips, "a goodly minister spe- 
cially gifted and peaceful in his place," made their 
abode at Watertown; Pynchon and a few with 
him began Roxbury. 

Thus began the formation of the Massachusetts 
colony under Winthrop. The civil government 
was exercised with mildness and impartiality, yet 
with determined vigor. Justices of the peace were 
commissioned with equal powers with those in 
England over their respective jurisdictions. On 
the 7th of September, 1630, names were given to 
Dorchester, Watertown, and Boston, which thus be- 
gan their career as towns under sanction of law. 
"Quotas were settled and money levied." The 
"interloper who dared to confront" the public 
authority was sent to England, or enjoined to 
depart out of the limits of the patent. 

The colony was struggling in its infancy, when 
there appeared on the stage of action a man destined 
to play an important role in the founding of a 
nation. Mr. Wilson, the pastor at Boston, was on 
the point of returning to England for his wife, when, 
on the 5th day of March, 1631, Roger Williams 
" with his good-wife Mary " arrived in the colony. 


Koger Williams was born in Cornwall, England, 
in 1599, of Welsh parents. Williams early be- 
came a Puritan in religion, and aroused the oppo- 
sition of his father, which resulted in his removal 
to London, where his promising talents, and espe- 
cially his remarkable skill as a reporter, gained for 
him the favorable notice of Sir Edward Coke, the 
first lawyer of the age. Coke sent him to Sutton's 
Hospital, a magnificent school of learnnig now 
called the Charter House. Upon the completion 
of his preparatory studies, young Williams was 
admitted to Cambridge University, where Coke 
himself had been educated, and where liberal and 
Puritanic sentiments had found a more congenial 
home than at Oxford. He was matriculated a pen- 
sioner of Pembroke College, July 7th, 1625, and 
in January, 1627, he took the degree of Bachelor 
of Arts. Under guidance of his illustrious patron, 
Mr. Williams now began the study of law; but 
theology possessing superior attractions for him, he 
became a preacher instead of a lawyer. He was 
admitted to the orders of the church and assumed 
charge of a parish under a bishop, who, it has been 
said, "winked at the nonconformists." While 
here, Williams met many of the leading emigrants 
to America, including his famous opponent in alter 
years, John Cotton. Even then Williams was very 
decided in his opposition to the liturgy and hier- 


archy of the church, as expounded and enforced by 
Laud, to escape from whose tyranny he finally fled 
to America. 

On landing in Boston, Roger Williams found 
himself unable to join with its church members. 
He had separated from the establishment in Eng- 
land, which wronged conscience by degrading its 
scruples. They "were an unseparated people," 
who refused to renounce communion with their 
persecutors. He would not suffer the magistrate 
to assume jurisdiction over the soul by punishing 
what was no more than a breach of the first table, 
an error of conscience or belief. They were willing 
to put the whole decalogue under the guardianship 
of civil authority. 

Eoger Williams' conduct has been condemned 
by modern authors of high standing as unnecessar- 
ily stubborn. Had he lived in the present age, he 
probably would be denominated a "crank," and 
his persecution is even yet justified by people of 
unquestioned ability. Whatever may be said 
against him, Roger Williams proved himself a 
Christian, and, considering the age in which he 
lived, we must accord his stubbornness to convic- 
tions of conscience. Of course, one of his belief 
could not be employed as a minister at Boston, there- 
fore the church, during the absence of Mr. Wilson, 
was commended to "the exercise of prophecy." 

Vol. 51? 


Mr. Higginson, the pastor at Salem, died about 
this time, and the good people were sadly in want 
of a teacher. In April, Williams was called to 
that office. Governor Winthrop and his assistants 
were not a little astounded at the choice of the 
people of Salem, and, in a letter to Endicott, they 
desired the church to forbear. Eoger Williams 
had scarcely entered upon his duties when this let- 
ter reached Endicott. The pastor was informed of 
its contents, and, refusing to renounce any of his 
views, he withdrew to Plymouth. 

Here Eoger Williams formed the acquaintance 
of Mathew Stevens, then a grave young man, living 
with Mr. Brewster. His thoughtful face at once 
attracted the good man. Williams had a tender 
heart, and, learning the story of the young man's 
love, sympathized with him. 

Since that awful night years before, when Sarah 
White, on her knees, implored Alice not to tear the 
veil from that hideous secret, she had not men- 
tioned it. The anxious mother noticed how day 
by day and year by year her daughter grew paler 
and more melancholy. Many tears were shed in 
secret, and often on her knees at prayer, she asked 
God to guide her in this trying hour, when all 
seemed so gloomy and dark. Like one forlorn and 
forsaken, beloved but never to wed, Alice went 
about the daily routine of life. Months and years 


had glided away in New Plymouth, since the ter- 
rible night which she had marked as the period of 
time when she began her living death. The waves 
of life which had threatened her frail bark after 
that awful tempest, had settled back to their usual 
flow. How imperious, how cold, in utter disregard 
of all one's feelings, does the hard, uninteresting 
course of daily realities move on. Still we must 
eat and drink and sleep and wake again, still plant 
and gather, buy and sell, ask and answer questions, 
pursue, in short, a thousand shadows, though all 
interest in them be over. Alice smiled on the 
happiness of her friend Priscilla; but the sigh 
which rose in her throat denied the smile its joy. 

Koger Williams, deeming it his duty to bind up 
the broken heart and encourage the disconsolate, 
no sooner learned that there was a silent grief in 
the village, than he hastened with his sympathy 
and prayers to make matters right. 

"It is a hopeless case," Mathew Stevens an- 
swered to his inquiry of the cause of their estrange- 
ment. "A cruel fate condemns us to misery. 
She whom I love is cursed with some withering, 
blighting secret, which is beyond my comprehen- 

"If you love her, why should secrets or mystery 
prevent the wedding? " asked Williams. 

"She will not wed until it is cleared away." 


"Who has it in keeping? " 

"Her mother." 

After long contemplating the curious case, Will- 
iams said: 

"I will see what can be done." 

As Roger Williams was leaving the home of 
Mathew Stevens, he met Francis Billington so near 
the house, that a suspicious person might readily 
conclude that he had been playing the part of an 
eavesdropper. Years had increased his ugliness. 
As the soul shines through the face, a vicious 
man nearly always shows it by his features. One 
of his front teeth was gone, and his hair had be- 
come so mingled with white, that it had a grizzled 

" Ye are going to see Sarah White," said Billing- 
ton, taking the preacher's arm, and leading him 
along a forest path near the village as if to impart 
a secret to him. " Ye are going to ask her why her 
daughter cannot wed Mathew Stevens? " 


"It will not serve yer purpose." 


" The grave is not more silent than she. Her 
daughter implored her until she swooned to unlock 
the secret in her heart. Ye may lacerate the heart 
which holds the secret, and make it bleed and 
ache; but it will never be unlocked to ye." 


"What do you know of this?" asked Roger 

"Nothing I am at liberty to tell ye." 

Then he slunk away as if his task was done. 

Roger Williams gave what he had said careful 
consideration, and decided not to probe for the 
secret which Sarah White kept locked securely in 
her breast. 

It was during the stay of Williams at Plymouth 
that the Sagamore of the Mohegans invited the 
English to the valley of the Connecticut. The in- 
vitation resulted two years later in the emigration 
of a colony under Hooper into Connecticut, driving 
their cattle, sheep and swine before them, and halt- 
ing in the wilderness on the Sabbath day to wor- 
ship God. Thus they went on moving into the 
provinces of the Dutch, regardless of the grumbling 
and threats of the Hollanders. 

In 1633, better auspices and the invitations 
of Winthrop won new emigrants from Europe. 
Among them came Haynes, "a man of very large 
estate and larger affections; of a heavenly mind, 
and a spotless life." Then also came the most 
revered spiritual teacher of two commonwealths, 
the acute and subtile John Cotton, the son of a 
Puritan lawyer, eminent at Cambridge as a scholar, 
quick in the nice perceptions of distinctions and 
pliant in dialects, rather persuasive than command- 


ing, skilled in the fathers and schoolmen, but find- 
ing all their wisdom compactly stored in Calvin. 
Thus we find two ecclesiastical giants in the new 
world John Cotton and Eoger Williams, and it 
was only natural that their diversified views should 
conflict, especially as the liberal views of Williams 
were so far in advance of the age in which he lived. 
The liberties he advocated could not be obtained 
save by a century and a half of time and the shed- 
ding of blood. 

Thus recruited, the little band in Massachusetts 
grew more jealous of their liberties. " The proph- 
ets in exile see the true forms of the house." By 
a common impulse, the freemen of the towns chose 
deputies to consider in advance the duties of the 
general court. The charter plainly gave legislative 
powers to the whole body of freemen. If it al- 
lowed representatives, thought Winthrop, it was 
only by inference, and, as the whole people could 
not always assemble, the chief power, it was argued, 
necessarily lay with the assistants. The people 
reasoned differently however. To check the dem- 
ocratic tendency, Cotton, on election day, preached 
to the assembled freemen against rotation in office. 
The right of an honest magistrate to his place was 
like that of a proprietor to his freehold; but the 
electors, now between three and four hundred in 
number, were bent on exercising "their absolute 


power," and, reversing the decision of the pulpit, 
chose a new governor and deputy. The mode of 
voting was at the same time reformed, and instead 
of the erection of hands, the ballot-box was for the 
first time introduced into America. Thus "the 
people established a reformation of such things as 
they judged to be amiss in the government." It 
was further decreed that the whole body of freemen 
should be convened only for the election of the 
magistrates. To these, with deputies to be chosen 
by several towns, the powers of legislation and ap- 
pointment were henceforward intrusted. The trad- 
ing corporation was unconsciously become a repre- 
sentative democracy. The law against arbitrary 
taxation speedily followed. None but the imme- 
diate representatives of the people might dispose of 
lands or raise money. Thus early did Massachu- 
setts echo the voice of Virginia, "like deep calling 
unto deep." The country was filled with village 
politicians; "the freemen of every town in the bay 
were busy inquiring into their liberties and privi- 
leges." With the exception of the principle of 
universal suffrage, now so happily established, the 
representative democracy was as perfect two cen- 
turies and a half ago as now. Even the magistrates 
who acted as judges held their office by the annual 
popular choice. "Elections cannot be safe there 
long," prophesied the monarchists in England. 


The same prediction has been made these two hun- 
dred and fifty-eight years; but time has proven the 
predictors to be false prophets. The public mind, 
ever in perpetual agitation, is still easily shaken, 
even by slight and transient impulses; but after all 
vibrations have passed, it follows the laws of the 
moral world and safely recovers its equilibrium. 

" The order of the churches and the common- 
wealths," wrote Cotton to his friends in Holland, 
"is now so settled in New England by common 
consent, that it brings to mind the new heaven and 
the new earth wherein dwells righteousness.'.' 

While the state was thus connecting by the 
closest bonds the energy of its faith with its form 
of government, Roger Williams, after remaining a 
little more than two years at Plymouth, accepted a 
second invitation to Salem. He took an affection- 
ate leave of Mathew Stevens, John Alden, and 
Alice White, to whom he had become warmly 

The ministers in the bay and at Lynn met once 
a fortnight at each other's houses to debate some 
question of moment and conduct other religious 
exercises. At one of these meetings, in November, 
1633, Skelton and Williams took some exception, 
for fear the custom might grow into a presbytery 
or superintendency, to the prejudice of liberties; 
but such a purpose was disclaimed, and all were 


clear that no church or person can have power over 
another church. Shortly after Williams read a 
paper at one of these meetings to prove that a grant 
of land in New England from an English king 
could not be perfect, except the grantees "com- 
pounded with the natives." This theory brought 
down upon "Williams a storm of opposition, the 
people claiming that such doctrine was treason 
against the charter. He consented that the offensive 
manuscript should be burned, and, the court, ap- 
plauding his temper, declared "the matter not so 
evil as at first it seemed." 

Williams had aroused the jealousy of his oppo- 
nents, and as church and state were so closely allied 
as to make the form of government almost a the- 
ocracy, a blow at one was a blow at the other. 
For policy sake the government avoided an explicit 
rupture with the church of England. Williams 
would hold no communion with it on account of 
its intolerance, for he argued: 

"The doctrine of persecution for cause of con- 
science is most evidently and lamentably contrary 
to the doctrine of Jesus Christ." 

As the liberties which the people of the United 
States now enjoy were founded on the doctrines 
and teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ, one may 
conclude that the Saviour of mankind was the first 
to preach the doctrine of civil and religious liberty. 


The magistrates insisted on the presence of every 
man at public worship. Williams reprobated this 
law. The worst statute in the English code was 
that which enforced attendance upon the parish 
church. To compel men to unite with those of a 
different creed, he regarded as an open violation of 
their natural rights. To drag to public worship 
the irreligious and the unwilling seemed only like 
requiring hypocrisy. 

" An unbelieving soul is dead in sin," he argued, 
" and to force the indifferent from one worship to 
another is like shifting a dead man to several 
changes of apparel. No one should be bound to 
worship or maintain a worship against his own 

"What! " exclaimed his antagonists, amazed at 
the argument he maintained, " is not the laborer 
worthy of his hire? " 

"Yes, from them that hire him," he replied. 

The controversy finally turned on the question 
of the rights and duties of magistrates to guard the 
minds of the people against the corrupting influ- 
ences, and to punish what to them seemed heresy. 
The same magistrates who punished Eliot, the 
apostle of the Indian race, for censuring their 
measures, could not brook the independence of 
Williams, and the circumstances of the times 
seemed to them to justify their apprehensions. 


An intense jealousy was excited in England against 
Massachusetts; "members of the general court, in 
December, 1634, received intelligence of some of 
the episcopal and malignant practices against the 
country." In the earliest years of the Plymouth 
and Massachusetts colonies, they became a menace 
to royalty. An English nobleman, a gentleman 
possessing the wonderful faculty of looking far 
into the future, prophesied that the English gov- 
ernment had planted a people across the water that 
would some day overthrow monarchy in England. 
Though his prophecy has never been quite fulfilled, 
America has been a menace to all monarchies. 
The magistrates were careful to avoid all unneces- 
sary offences to the English government; but at the 
same time they were consolidating their own insti- 
tutions and even preparing for resistance. It was 
in this view that the freeman's oath was instituted, 
by which every freeman swore allegiance not to 
King Charles, but to Massachusetts. 

Thus the sons of freedom began to build barriers 
of independence against the crowned heads of the 
old world. The seed of freedom began to sprout 
in the soil of the New World, and in course of 
time it burst forth in that glorious flower of free- 
dom, the Declaration of Independence. 

The most determined of Williams' opponents 
was John Cotton. It might have been jealousy 


mingled with Cotton's idea of right, that made him 
the persecutor of Williams. Roger Williams not 
only declared for intellectual liberty, but preached 
the doctrine of the Anabaptists. His schismatic 
theories were seditious and, considering the times, 
really dangerous! He had many followers, some 
of whom had come with him from New Plymouth. 
At last, on the 9th of October, 1635, the following 
order fpr his banishment was spread upon the 

" Whereas, Mr. Roger Williams, one of the elders of the 
church of Salem, hath broached and divulged new and 
dangerous opinions against the authority of the magis- 
trates, as also writ letters of defamation, both of the 
magistrates and churches here, and that before any con- 
viction, and yet maintaineth the same without any re- 
traction, it is therefore ordered that the said Mr. Williams 
shall depart out of this jurisdiction within six weeks now 
next ensuing, which if he neglects to perform, it shall be 
lawful for the governor and two of the magistrates to send 
him to some place out of this jurisdiction, not to return 
any more without license from the court. " 

Williams had so many friends that it was not 
until after a severe struggle and all the influence 
of both Governor Winthrop and John Cotton had 
been brought to bear, that a decree like the above 
could be obtained. This decree was obtained in 
October, yet through all November and December 
Williams remained in defiance of it. Many friends 


hastened to him with sympathy and condolence. 
Mathew Stevens, Alice "White, and others came all 
the way from Plymouth to Salem to express their 
regrets and urge him either to return to Plymouth 
or defy the law. 

" You will find an abundance of supporters ready 
to draw their swords in your defence," argued 

"Nay, nay, my friend; my master said to his 
would-be defender, 'Put up thy sword into the 
sheath ; the cup which my Father hath given me, 
shall I not drink it? ' I make the same mild re- 
quest, and, could I do so, would heal any of the 
wounds of my enemies. I will not go to England, 
but seek a place in the wilderness, where freedom, 
sublimity and God alone dwell. Go back to your 
homes make each other happy. Farewell." 

On their return to New Plymouth, Mathew re- 
called the remark of Williams. 

"Will you obey? Will you make me happy? " 
he asked. 

Fixing her sad blue eyes on his face, she an- 
swered : 

"Wait, Mathew; that cloud may yet clear away. 
Wait, hope and pray." 

Three months had elapsed since the decree of 
banishment had been issued against Eoger Will- 
iams. He was still at home, and the magistrates 



determined to arrest the malefactor and send him 
to England. 
It was evening, the 15th of January, 1636. A 


warm fire was 
_ : : ' burning on 

the hearth of 
Eoger Williams. 
His young wife, 
with her babe on 
her knee, was at 
his side, when 
there came a rap at 
the door. He rose 
and, opening the 
door, discovered 



John Wheelwright, a silenced preacher, and Mrs. 
Annie Hutchinson, whose faces betrayed the great- 
est excitement. 

"Go, Eoger Williams, fly at once! " cried the 
excited woman. "Captain Underwood has just 
landed in a pinnace to arrest you and take you 
back to England in the morning." 

Wheelwright confirmed what she said. They 
had learned from 'a sailor that the plan was to 
arrest Williams at daylight. There was not a 
moment to be lost. The banished man clasped his 
wife and child a moment in his arms, then, with a 
small bundle of clothes and provisions and no 
weapon save his good stout staff, he set forth into 
the stormy night. 

The night was dark, the wind howled and flapped 
his cloak against his person, while the snow in 
eddying whirls almost blinded him. He felt the 
biting frost nipping his fingers and piercing his 
garments, yet he resolutely set his face westward 
toward the wilderness and pushed on. 

All night and most of next day he wandered 
through an uninhabited forest in a snow storm. 
When he became so tired and benumbed he could 
not go any further, he took shelter in a hollow tree, 
where he found a goodly store of nuts provided by 
wild animals. When night came, he again set 
forth into the wood, and had not gone far, when 


he espied a light in the distance. Through the dark- 
ness and falling snow he crept to it, and it proved 
to be the camp fire of some Wampanoags who had 
been on a hunt. Koger Williams, while at Plym- 
outh, had befriended some of these Indians and 
was well known to them. They took him to their 
village where he remained several days, nursing 
his frozen feet and fingers. While here he was 
joined by several of his friends who went into 
voluntary exile with him, and they were furnished 
a guide to the Narragansetts. 

"The ravens," declared Williams, "fed me in 
the wilderness," and, in requital for the hospitality 
of the Indians, he was ever through his long life 
their friend and benefactor, the apostle of Chris- 
tianity without hire, or weariness, or impatience at 
their idolatry, the pacificator of their own feuds, 
the guardian of their rights, whenever Europeans 
attempted an invasion of their soil. 

With the few followers who had overtaken him 
in the wilderness, he began to build, first at 
Sekonk; but, learning that it was within the terri- 
tory covered by the patent of Plymouth, he decided 
to go further. At about this time he received a 
letter from Governor Winthrop, who, after all, 
seemed to retain a kindly feeling for the exile, 
advising him to steer his course to the Narragan- 
sett Bay as it was free from English claims and 


patents. Williams took his advice and, in June, 
with five companions, embarked on the stream in 
a frail Indian canoe. 

The spot where they first landed in the new ter- 
ritory, Williams gave the name of Providence, in 
token of God's mercy. Here a colony was estab- 
lished and named Khode Island, from the name 
first given the country by the Dutch, "Roode 
Eylandt," meaning Eed Island. Admirers and 
friends came from Massachusetts and Plymouth to 
the new colony, where absolute freedom of con- 
science was allowed. Mrs. Hutchinson and others, 
banished from the Massachusetts colony for advo- 
cating too much liberty of conscience, also emi- 
grated to Rhode Island. The colony became pros- 
perous, and, in course of time, Providence was a 
neat little town, fast growing to a city, and Roger 
Williams, the exile, obtained a patent for the 
colony, now a State, founded in sorrow and perse- 

It was for many years an asylum for the perse- 
cuted from Massachusetts, and Roger Williams, the 
founder, is one whose name will be revered by a 
grateful people as long as this, the smallest state 
in the great Union, is remembered. 

Vol. 514 



A garland for the hero's crest, 

And twined by her he loves the best : 

To every lovely lady bright, 

What can I wish but faithful knight? 

To every faithful lover too, 

What can I wish but lady true? 


WHILE human passions were busy; while fugi- 
tives from persecution in turn became persecutors, 
and drove men into the wilderness for daring to 
exercise the religious rights which they them- 
selves had crossed the seas to obtain, the age of 
reason dawned on New England. The very year 
that Roger Williams was sent into exile, Mr. John 
Harvard founded Harvard College, to day the old- 
est institution of learning in America. The sturdy 
Puritans, while contending with jealous kings, 
torn by internal factions, and fighting the Indians, 
found time to plant colleges and seminaries of 
learning. The age of reason had dawned, and out 
from the ashes of fiery disputes and persecutions 



came the phoenix of truth. The dawn of reason 
marked the awakening of liberty in thought and 
speech. The awakening was slow, but sure, and 
the hardy pioneers of Massachusetts and the New 
England colonies were the ancestors of the men and 
women who first demanded and obtained liberty. 

Mathew Stevens, still at Plymouth, sought 
solace from his sorrow in work and speculation. 
Heaven seemed to favor him, for his accumulations 
became large. His trade with the Indians was 
lucrative, and the wealth which he affected to de- 
spise poured in upon him, far surpassing his wild- 
est hopes. Of what good was wealth now? He 
had no ambition for what Alice could never share 
with him. 

A few months after the banishment of Roger 
Williams, a messenger arrived from Boston with 
the alarming intelligence that the governor of 
Massachusetts had determined on hostilities against 
the Pequod Indians on Block Island. The Indians, 
who had murdered Captain Stone two years before, 
had further roused the whites, in July, 1636, by 
killing John Oldham, an enterprising trader from 

Mr. Hooker, with a large colony, had emigrated 
from Massachusetts to the Connecticut valley. In 
Hooker's colony there were many friends and rela- 
tives of the people in both Massachusetts and New 


Plymouth, and it was but natural that the promise 
of a Pequod uprising should fill the people of both 
colonies with the gravest apprehensions. It was 
thought necessary for the English, by one strong 
blow, to show their power, and thus intimidate 
both the Pequods and Dutch, who still claimed 
Connecticut as a part of the New Netherland. 
Such a warlike expedition had been planned, and 
the messenger was in fact but a recruiting officer 
come to swell the ranks of the army for the cam- 

Mathew Stevens was the first to enlist. By 
nature he was a soldier, and his sword had long 
rusted in its scabbard, and he was eager to draw it 
in defence of humanity. Besides, a brisk campaign 
might give him rest from the keen sorrows which 
were weighing him down. Next day, with a few 
others, he was to set out for Boston to engage in 
the Indian war. He had not seen Alice since 
that journey in which she bade him wait and hope. 

He had waited, hoped and prayed; but he was 
seemingly as far from happiness as ever. He re- 
solved on that last evening to pay her one more 
visit. Years had begun to tell on the Pilgrim. 
Though his frame had lost none of its youthful 
vigor, his dark hair was becoming flecked with 

Going to the cottage, he learned that Alice was 


not at liome, but would soon return. That sad, 
mysterious mother whom he had so long avoided 
was alone. Sarah White was paler and more worn 
than when he had first met her. She never had 
been pretty ; but her whole life, which had been a 
succession of pious works and efforts to shake off 
some shadow, had eventually cast over her a cer- 
tain whiteness and brightness, and, in growing 
older, she had acquired what may be called a 
beauty of goodness. What had been thinness in 
her youth had, in her maturity, become transpar- 
ency, and through this transparency the angel could 
be seen. Yet, with all the goodness by which she 
seemed blessed, there was something so mysterious 
about her, that Mathew involuntarily shrank away. 

" Alice has gone across the street to Mr. Alden's, 
and will return in a moment. Won't you sit and 

A plain, straight-backed chair was handed him, 
and, with corrugated brow, the Puritan sat down 
to wait, while Sarah White busied herself about 
her household duties. In a few moments Alice 
came in at a brisk pace. She was a charming 
blonde with handsome teeth. She had gold v and 
pearls for her dower; but the gold was on her head 
and the pearls were in her mouth. She had ad- 
vanced in life, and the innocent beauty of child- 
hood had given place to the matured loveliness of 


womanhood. Despite the flight of years, and that 
harrowing secret, which hung like a pall over her, 
Alice did not seem older to Mathew than when 
he met her that day in London. 

She expressed some surprise at seeing him ; but 
the smile on her face had the warmth of welcome 
in it. As soon as they were alone he said: 

"Alice, I am going away." 

"Going away? " she repeated, in a voice indicat- 
ing both surprise and regret. "Where are you 
going? " 

"To the war with the Pequods," he answered. 

Then for a long time they sat in the little room, 
neither speaking. The shades of twilight gathered 
about the cottage and crept into the dingy little 
apartment. At last he spoke: 


She made no answer, for she was lost in a sad, 
painful reverie. He drew her to his side, and took 
one of her hands in his, in that old, loving way. 

She made no answer to his call, and he said no 
more; but both sat motionless as old Plymouth 

After a long time the mother entered the room 
to light a candle. Then they were roused from 
their strange reverie. Having lighted the candle, 
Sarah White left them, and Mathew, now that the 
spell was broken said: 


"Alice, I am going away in the morning." 

"When will you return?" she asked. 

" I know not; when a soldier goes to war he may 
never return." 

She shuddered and, clinging to him, asked: 

"Why need you go? " 

" Some one must, and it may as well be I as 
any ; but let us not comment on that. It is already 
decreed that I go, and I may never return." 

Clinging fondly to him, she murmured: 

"Mathew, forgive me." 

" Forgive you, Alice? Why should I forgive you? 
What have you done that you need my forgiveness?" 

" I have made your life miserable. I have been 
so strange, so mysterious, have rejected your love 
so long; but, believe me, Mathew, it was for your 
own good and happiness that I did it." 

"Say no more about it, Alice. You have done 
nothing for which I need forgive you, and if I 
have suffered, you have suffered as well." 

They fell to discussing the future, a future so 
dark that scarce a ray of hope could penetrate it. 
They parted at the gate, in that same old, loving 
way, before they had been tried by the withering 
blasts of sorrow, and Alice, retiring to her room, 
threw herself on her couch, and sobbed: 

"Cruel, cruel fate! He may never come back 


Mathew hastened to the home of Mr. Brewster. 
The good man was still awake, waiting for him. 

"You go away to the war in the morning?" 
asked Mr. Brewster. 

"I do." 

"Let me this lesson enjoin on you. Be a brave 
but gentle soldier. The bravest are the most 
humane, and those who would conquer must take 
the mild precept of Prince Emanuel for their 

"I sometimes fear that I do not fully appreciate 
those gems of truth which are such consolation to 
you," answered Mathew sadly. 

" Why? You are not a backslider? " 

"No; but temptations continually rise before 
me. I am so sorely tried that sometimes I yield. 
I have not the forbearance of Job, for I sometimes 
lose my temper and fall." 

Mr. Brewster bowed his head and slowly made 
the following philosophical answer: 

"Knowing your heart tnals, I sympathize with 
you; but you must ever bear in mind that man has 
upon him the flesh, which is at once his burden 
and his temptation. He carries it with him and 
yields to it. He should watch, restrain and repress 
it, and only obey it in the last extremity. In this 
obedience there may still be a fault; but the fault 
thus committed is not venial. It is a fall, but a 


fall on the knees, which may end in prayer. To 
be a saint is the exception, to be a just man is the 
rule. Err, fail, sin, but be just. The least pos- 
sible, amount of sin is the law of man ; no sin at all 
is the dream of angels. All that is earthly is sub- 
jected to sin, for it is a gravitation. If a man in 
that spirit falls, he will rise in triumph. He falls 
in weakness; he rises in glory." 

Mr. Brewster expressed rather liberal views for 
a Puritan this evening; but he knew that his 
strange doctrine would not be misconstrued by his 
hearer, and he had more of the love of Christ in 
his heart than many of the professed followers of 
the Saviour. 

Mathew rose early next morning and joined the 
small band of recruits that had been mustered to 
set out for Boston. When they were ready to 
start some one said: 

"We have no captain. Let us choose one from 
among ourselves." 

"Is not Captain Standish going with us? " asked 

" No; it has been thought best that he remain at 
home; for if the Narragansetts enter into an alli- 
ance with the Pequods, our own homes may be 

"Whom shall we choose for our captain? " 

"Mathew Stevens," some one cried. Before 



Mathew could realize what his comrades were about, 
he had been selected as captain of the expedition. 

They embarked in a pinnace, and, with fair wind 
and tide, sailed to Boston. When they reached 
the little town, they found it in a great state of 
excitement. Three vessels were getting ready to 
sail for the seat of war. Drums were beating, 
trumpets sounding, and the New England volun- 
teers were parading the streets of the village with 
as much pomp as if they composed a vast army at 

a grand review. The re- 
cruits from New Plym- 
outh were greeted with 
cheers, and their choice 
of Mathew as their cap- 
tain was sanctioned. 

They were only a 
dozen in number, rather 
a small force to have a 
captain over them, yet 
Endicott, the comman- 
der of the expedition, thought best to let them 
serve as an independent company. 

The troops were marched aboard the vessels 
lying in the harbor ready to sail. In a few mo- 
ments, amid well wishes of friends, cheers, and 
booming of cannon from the stockade, they set sail 
for the seat of war. 

I \ 



It will be well at this point to give, for the 
reader's benefit, something of the situation of the 
English in Connecticut, which we will proceed to 
do while the fleet of Endicott is sailing to the seat 
of hostilities. In the very morning of the colonial 
era of Connecticut, dark clouds gathered black and 
threatening, and for awhile a storm impended, 
which threatened to sweep the little English settle- 
ments out of existence. The fiery Pequods had 
become jealous of the English, because the latter 
appeared to be on friendly terms with the Mohe- 
gans on the West and the Narragansetts on the 
East, both of which nations were hereditary ene- 
mies of this warlike tribe. At this time the famous 
Sassacus was chief or Sachem of the Pequods. 
He was cool, calculating, treacherous, haughty, 
fierce and malignant and the dread of all the 
neighboring tribes. He ruled over twenty-six 
Sagamores, or inferior princes, and his domain ex- 
tended from Narragansett Bay to the Hudson River 
and over Long Island. His bravery won the un- 
bounded admiration of his warriors, of whom 
almost two thousand were ready to follow him, 
whithersoever he might lead. 

Seeing the power of the few English in the gar- 
rison at Say brook, and dreading the strength and 
influence of more who would undoubtedly follow 
them, he resolved to exterminate the intruders. 


By every art of persuasion and menace, he tried to 
induce the Mohegans and Narragansetts to become 
his allies. The united tribes could have put four 
thousand warriors in the field at any one time, 
while among all the English in the Connecticut val- 
ley, there were no more than two hundred and fifty 
men capable of bearing arms. How easily those 
fierce pagans might have annihilated the whites! 

The wily Pequods did not declare war at once, 
but came to it by degrees, moving cautiously. At 
first they were sullen and kept aloof from the set- 
tlers. Then they kidnapped children, and finally 
murdered the Englishmen when found alone in the 
forest or on the waters, and destroyed or made 
captive whole families on the borders of the settle- 
ments. It became apparent that the Indians in- 
tended to exterminate the English in detail, and 
terror reigned throughout the valley. The capture 
and murder of Oldham was the final climax and re- 
sulted in the warlike expedition, in which Mathew 
Stevens took part. 

The vessels sailed into Long Island Sound. It 
was night when they came to Block Island, and 
moored their barks on the end opposite the Indian 
villages. Every precaution was taken not to alarm 
the foe, and the troops were landed and formed for 
the attack. 

Mathew, with his small command and a trusty 


guide, set out as an advance guard for the little 
army. Nothing broke the silence save the steady 
tramp of feet, and clank of arms and armor. The 
night was still and all the stars shone brightly from 
the heavens. There was no moon; but the stars 
gave sufficient light to enable them to pick their 
way through the forest. 

At last the guide halted and said : 

"Just over the hill is the village." 

Mathew ordered his small command to halt, and, 
grounding their muskets, they awaited the arrival 
of the main force. The eastern horizon was tinged 
with the first faint streaks of dawn, and as Mathew 
watched the increasing light, he reflected that with- 
in an hour they would be plunged into a terrible 
conflict with a savage foe. Some must fall; per- 
chance he would be one of the number. 

Silently he breathed a prayer to God for his soul 
and for Alice. His silent invocation was scarcely 
over, when the main body of troops arrived. 

By this time it was broad day, and Endicott de- 
termined to make the attack at once. Already the 
Indians were astir. The chirp of robins, whistle 
of blue jays and chatter of squirrels made the 
forest seem peaceful and gay. There was no warn- 
ing to those unfortunate natives soon to be swept 
from the earth. Mathew Stevens, with his own 
men and eight more, was left to attack the lower 


town, while the main force went to attack the larger 
village farther up the island. Stevens was ordered 
to wait until he heard the firing at the upper town, 
and then to pour in a volley and fall upon the sav- 
ages from every quarter. 

While Mathew was watching the Indian town 
from his ambuscade he espied a beautiful Indian 
maiden beating hominy in a mortar outside of the 
nearest cabin. Doubtless she was preparing the 
morning meal. In a few moments she was joined 
by a young man, probably her lover, who placed 
his arms about her waist, playfully slung her about, 
and then assisted her with the pestle. While thus 
engaged in this sort of dalliance, wholly unsus- 
picious of danger, the rattling crash of firearms was 
heard not more than two miles up the river. The 
moment had come; the matches of Mathew's sol- 
diers had for some time been burning, and he gave 
the command: 


Like a peal of thunder, a score of muskets rang 
out on the air, and the Indian lover, fell a corpse 
beside his dusky sweetheart. Ere she could re- 
cover sufficiently from the shock produced by this 
sudden attack to realize from whence the danger 
came, the Indian maiden was made captive. 

Mathew, at the head of his party, charged into 
the town. He fired his pistols as he ran, and a 



stalwart warrior who had snatched his bov\r from 
his wigwam as he ran, fell pierced by one of his 
bullets. The savages were taken completely by 
surprise and made little resistance. They aban- 
doned their wigwams which were soon in flames, 
and fled to their canoes, pursued by Mathew and 
his victorious troops. The English clubbed their 
guns and knocked two or 
three on the head and run 
others through with swords ; 
but most of the Indians 
escaped in their canoes. 
The English . stood on the 
shore firing at them until 
they were out of musket 

After destroying three 
or four old canoes, they 
returned to the town. The 
wigwams were set on fire, and from the smoke in 
the direction of the upper town, it was evident that 
it also was in flames. Nothing more remained to 
be done at this place, and Mathew took up his line 
of march to join Endicott. On the way he met 
the main force at a cornfield, which they proceeded 
to cut down. 

The expedition had not accomplished much. 
The two insignificant villages were destroyed, a 



few Indians killed, and the standing corn destroyed; 
but the victory was small at best. Then they went 
over into the main land of the Pequods and de- 
manded the murderers of Oldham and the other 
whites, threatening the whole country with destruc- 
tion if their requests were not complied with. The 
Indians held their demand in contempt. So they 
burned one or two villages, killed five more sav- 
ages, and turned to Massachusetts. 

Mathew Stevens, with his small band, boarded 
the pinnace and sailed for Plymouth. Nearing 
the village, the eyes of the Spaniard saw some one 
standing on the rock. It was a woman. 

"Alice, awaiting my return," murmured the 
soldier, a smile like a beam of sunlight spreading 
over his face. 



When all the fiercer passions cease 

(The glory and disgrace of youth) ; 
When the deluded soul in peace, 

Can listen to the voice of truth ; 
When we are taught in whom to trust 

And how to spare, to spend and give 
(Our prudence kind, our pity just), 

'Tis then we rightly learn to live. 


THE Hollanders and Puritans played a sharp 
game of diplomacy and soft words for possessions 
in the Connecticut valley. The initial Yankees 
outwitted the Dutch, and the Plymouth people 
outgeneraled those in Boston. There was a tribe 
of Indians at Plymouth banished from the Connec- 
ticut valley by the Pequods. They still had their 
chief and preserved their tribal organization, and 
from them the Pilgrims purchased a tract of land 
above the Dutch fort Good Hope. A house was 
framed and stowed away on board a ship com- 
manded by Mr. William Holmes. In this bark 
Vol. 515 225 


sailed a remnant of the Connecticut tribe, and a 
few Englishmen, who had determined to locate in 
the valley of the Connecticut. 

As they passed Fort Good Hope, they were 
hailed by the officer of that garrison with: 

"Where are you going, and for what purpose? " 

"Up the river to trade," answered Holmes. 

The Dutch, who had become jealous of their 
possessions in Connecticut, feared they were going 
to settle rather than trade. 

" Heave to! " shouted the commander of the gar- 
rison, standing by a heavy gun. "Heave to, or I 
will shoot! " 

"I must obey my commands," the captain an- 
swered, and boldly stood up the stream. 

The Dutch commander blustered and raged, but 
did not shoot. The English landed in the purchased 
territory, erected their house and took possession of 
the country. They palisaded their house, mounted 
two cannon for its defence, and sent the vessel 
back. This house was erected on the site of 
Windsor in Connecticut. 

Van T wilier, the fat clownish governor, who 
was made the butt of ridicule even by his own 
countrymen, heard of the intrusion, and as he had 
been instructed by the home government to hold 
Connecticut at all hazards, he sent to Holmes a 
peremptory order to depart with all his people and 


possessions from that Dutch domain. To this de- 
mand, Holmes replied : 

"I am here in the name of the king of England, 
whose servant I am, and here I will remain." 

This bold intrusion, in addition to the Hooker 
invasion, did not make the Hollanders very anxious 
to mix in the Pequod war which threatened the 
extermination of the English within their own. 

The expedition to Block Island only tended to 
rouse the indignation of the Pequods, who began 
to plan a war of extermination. The hated Eng- 
lish, who were gradually encroaching on their 
rights, must be driven from the country and the 
land of their fathers redeemed. 

Fearing they were not strong enough themselves 
to accomplish their plans, the Pequods sent ambassa- 
dors to the monarch of the Narragansetts, urging 
him to join them at once in a war of extermina- 
tion, declaring that the two races could not live in 
the same land, that the Indians, who would soon 
be the weaker party, would be scattered and de- 
stroyed like leaves in Autumn. 

In his little Ehode Island home, Koger Will- 
iams and his faithful followers might have passed 
their days in tranquil ease, even though the war 
raged in Connecticut until every Englishman was 
driven from the soil. His relations with the Nar- 


ragansetts and Mohegans were pleasant, and he 
had little to fear from any red man, for he had 
ever been the friend of the Indian, and no race of 
people ever had greater respect for friends than the 
aborigines, before their morals became corrupted by 
contact with the worst elements of the white race. 

In his security and peace, Eoger Willams heard 
the cry of distress. The cry came first from his 
enemies in Massachusetts, who had beloved friends 
and relatives in Connecticut, who were hourly in 
danger of extermination. In this trying moment 
they appealed to Williams whom they had ban- 
ished to exert his influence to prevent the Narra- 
gansetts and Mohegans from forming an alliance 
with the dread Pequods. This appeal fell upon a 
listening ear. He had already sent many friendly 
warnings to the English in Connecticut and Mas- 
sachusetts, and he was willing now to risk his life 
to prevent the general uprising of the Indians. 

"Will you go?" asked his brave young wife, 
on learning what had been required of him. 

"Certainly," he answered. 




"I can accomplish more alone." 

She made no objection; but, clinging to her 
shildren, by a heroic effort, kept back her tears. 


It was midnight, and the wild winds were howl- 
ing through the trees, and the rain, falling in 
torrents on the poor roof of the cabin, leaked 
through on the thick puncheon floor below. In 
the dryest corner of the room, Williams had placed 
the bed for his wife and children and spread a 
piece of old sail as a canopy above it. The faith- 
ful husband, kind father, and devoted friend of 
mankind laid a few logs on the fire and, kissing 
his wife and sleeping children, went out into the 
driving storm, alone and unarmed, save the con- 
sciousness of doing God and man a service. 

He baled the water out of his poor canoe and set 
out on his mission to the Narragansett monarch. 
Next morning, at the home of the great sachem, all 
was the wildest excitement and confusion. Hun- 
dreds of Indians were astir, and one did not have to 
be acquainted with savage life to know that some- 
thing of more than usual moment was transpiring. 

During the night embassadors had come from 
the Pequods with the proposition of an alliance 
against the English. Eumor of war creates great 
excitement among civilized people as well as sav- 
ages, and the most unambitious Narragansett was 
wild with excitement. Savages were hurrying 
hither and thither, and there were many comments 
as to the result of the conference to be held that 


The Pequods, terrible in their war paint, and 
hands still red with the blood of the murdered 
whites, mingled freely with their neighbors the 
Narragansetts, arguing the necessity of uniting 
against the English. 

Such was the state of affairs when a strange 
being appeared among them. It was a white man, 
who landed his frail bark at their shore and boldly 
advanced toward the Indian town. The Pequods 
saw him, and their eyes flashed with hatred, and 
gnashing their teeth they seized their weapons. 

"It's an Englishman a hated white man," said 
a Pequod warrior, drawing his knife half way from 
its sheath. 

" Do him no harm," a young Sagamore returned, 
laying his hand on the arm of his neighbor. "He 
is a good man, and is our friend." 

"Who is he?" 

"Eoger Williams." 

That name was not unknown even to the Pequods. 
The man who had been driven from Massachusetts 
and sought a home in the wilderness was the friend 
of all Indians, and his stubborn defence of their 
rights was in part the original cause of his trouble 
with the people of Massachusetts. 

"Why does he come at this time?" the Pequod 
asked, for he fancied from the first that the visit 
of Koger Williams at such a moment, portended 


ill to their plans. The Narragansetts made no an- 
swer, and the stranger strode bodily up the hill. 

His cloak was soaked with water and hung drip- 
ping about his shoulders. He had a stout staff in 
his hand, which he used to support his steps in the 
wilderness rather than as a weapon. 

A dozen Pequods stood with lowering brows and 
flashing eyes watching the white man as he boldly 
entered the town. Roger Williams saw plainly de- 
picted on their faces hate and revenge. It seemed 
as if they tried by their glance to annihilate the 
white man. To one man's belt, depended two 
human scalps. One had the long, soft, yellow 
hair of a woman, and the other was the scalp of a 
child, so that he suppposed they had been torn 
from the head of a mother and her babe. Though 
the sight sickened him, Williams was not fright- 
ened, nor deterred from his purpose. He was ac- 
costed by a Narragansett warrior with: 

"Whom do you wish to see?" Having ac- 
quired the Indian language, he understood the 

"I want to see your sachem," he answered. 

"He is busy." 

"Who is with him?" 

"The sagamores of the Pequods." 

He realized now that he was not a moment too 
soon. The great Pequod king, or sachem Sassacus 


himself, had come to wait upon Miantonomoh, act- 
ing chief sachem of the Narragansetts, for his uncle 
Canonicus, the real sachem, was very old. 

"I must see and talk with Miantonomoh," Wil- 
liams declared. The announcement that Mianto- 
nomoh " was engaged " did not deter Williams. 
He saw a young man among the Narragansetts 
whom he knew to possess great influence with the 
chief sachem, and, taking him aside, asked: 

"Is Miantonomoh holding a consultation with 

"He is." 

"Does it relate to an union for the destruction 
of the English?" 

With an evasive look, the Indian answered that 
it did. 

"Is there any danger of your people going to 
war with the English in Connecticut?" 

With another evasive glance, the young Indian 
answered : 

"I do not know." 

"Do you think Miantonomoh would break faith 
with us?" 

After a brief silence, the young brave answered: 

"I cannot say. The Pequods hold out many 
good inducements." 

"And your people?" 

"They will do whatever the sachem directs." 


"Then I am needed here," thought Roger Wil- 

As he reflected on the horrors of such an alli- 
ance, the estrangement of all the Indians whom he 
had hoped to convert to Christianity, the murder 
of helpless women and children, the thousands of 
innocent lives jeopardized by such an alliance, he 
repeated : 

"Yes, I am not a moment too soon!" 

A war at best is to be deplored ; but war with 
savages can only be contemplated with horror. 

"I must see Miantonomoh," Williams again 
declared. "I must see him at once." 

The Indian was silent. Turning his great earn- 
est eyes upon the young savage, Roger Williams 
added : 

"You can gain me admittance to the sachem; 
I am your friend; you have eaten at my table; 
hasten to the sachem and tell him I must talk with 

The young Indian conducted Williams to his 
lodge hard by, and told him to abide there until 
he came for him. Williams threw himself upon a 
pile of skins and, covering his face with his hands, 
prayed God to give him success. 

"It must not be!" he groaned. 

The thought of all the horrors of such a war, the 
burning houses, the fleeing women and children, 


murder and rapine throughout the fair land which 
God had given his own as a home of peace almost 
drove him mad. It seemed an age before the 
young Indian came back ; but when he did return, 
he brought the joyful intelligence that Mianto- 
nomoh would see him, and the embassador hast- 
ened to the lodge of that chief. 

He was received with savage dignity, and, after 
having smoked the pipe of peace, he said: 

" I have travelled all night through the storm in 
an open boat, chilled by rains and exposed to dan- 
ger on land and water, that I might see my friend 
before he too hastily arrives at a decision." 

Miantonomoh bowed his head and gave vent to 
a grunt, but said nothing. Eoger Williams con- 
tinued : 

" The chief sagamore of the Pequods has come to 
urge you to take up the hatchet against the whites. " 

The sachem was still silent, and Williams waited 
for him to express his approval or disapproval of 
what he was saying. Finding that he would not 
say anything, Williams resumed his argument. 
He spoke in a cool, unimpassioned manner, re- 
minding the sachem of the good feeling which ex- 
isted between himself and the whites. The Pequods 
claimed to have suffered great wrongs; but had 
they not inflicted greater, not only on the whites, 
but on other tribes of Indians? As an argument, 


he referred to the tribe which the Pequods ban- 
ished from Connecticut, and which had taken up 
their abode in Plymouth until restored to their 
rightful possessions by the white people. 

" But I am not here to plead the cause of the 
English nor the banished Indians," he continued. 
" My object is to cement the friendship and pre- 
serve the good feeling we entertain for each other. 
There may be war with the Pequods, there may be 
many slain, much cruelty and misery; but there 
is no occasion for the Narragansetts to imbrue their 
hands in the blood of their friends. I would re- 
mind you of the arrogance of the Pequods ere the 
whites came, recall their cruelty to your people, 
slaying and enslaving them, so that you fain would 
appeal to the English to plant in Connecticut as a 
barrier between yourselves and these warlike peo- 
ple. The whites came and planted the barrier, 
and now they ask you to aid them to remove it. 
Who knows but that in time when the barrier is 
removed they may not fall upon you and destroy 
you. If you would be wise, reject their proposi- 
tion. If you love friends, and hate enemies, reject 
their proposition. If you love home, wife and 
children and peace, more than war and- famine, the 
forest, fire and sword, then reject the offer of the 

It was impossible to tell what effect Eoger Wil- 


Hams' speech was having on the sachem. He sat 
unmoved and smoked in silence. His eyes were on 
the ground and the stoical face of the savage ex- 
pressed neither approval nor disapproval. Mianto- 
nomoh did not even grunt assent or disapproval. 
Roger Williams rose and without a word left the 
lodge of the chief. He was astounded to find the 
sun sunk low in the heavens. The day was almost 

A large, powerful Indian, whose rich costume 
and gay feathers indicated that he wad a chief of 
some note among the Pequods, was waiting with- 
out the lodge. His arms were folded across his 
breast and his eyes were flashing fire. As he turned 
his baleful glance on the Englishman, "Williams 
could not repress a shudder. Near him was the 
savage with the two human scalps at his girdle. 
Their fierce looks bode the white man no good, 
and but for the presence of the powerful Narragan- 
setts, they would have slain him on the spot. A 
throng of Pequods gathered about Williams as soon 
as he emerged from the council chamber, and he 
began to have some apprehensions of danger, when 
his young friend came and led him away from 
their midst. 

"Did you see Miantonomoh ?" he asked. 

"I did." 

"What will he do?" 


"I know not. 1 have talked with him; but he 
has made me no answer, neither yea nor nay." 

" There is a white man in the woods who wants 
to see you." 


The Indian pointed to a clump of trees and 
bushes not far off and added: 

"He is hiding there. If the Pequods know it, 
they will kill him!" 

Eoger Williams accompanied the young Narra- 
gansett to the thicket, where they found a red- 
headed young man, whose great blue eyes were 
full of dread and terror. 

"Why are you here?" asked Williams. 

"My name is Isaac Tulley, and I was living 
with a family in Connecticut," he answered. " One 
night the Pequods attacked the house and the peo- 
ple were all slain save myself. I made my escape 
and ever since I have been wandering in the forest, 
trying to make my way to Boston or Plymouth. 
For days I have been without food, and hoped to 
find friends here." 

Williams explained how matters stood at the 
town of the Narragansetts, and stated that he 
doubted if they would have the power to save 
him, should the Pequods become aware of his 

"The Pequods would slay me without a doubt," 


he said. "I shot three of their number, and they 
will be avenged on me if they find me." 

" Stay in the woods, I will send you food. "VVe 
do not know yet what the decision of Miantonomoh 
will be; but be it whatever it may, you will be 
doomed if the Pequods find you." 

"I don't want to die," whimpered Isaac. "I 
am not fit to die. If I was prepared, I would not 
shun death ; but with all my sins I cannot meet my 

There was no time to convert the fugitive; but 
Williams informed him that God was always ready 
to extend His mercy to any who would accept Him 
through the atoning blood of Jesus Christ. As he 
was going away, Isaac said: 

" Won't you come to me again. I am so lone- 
some in this forest. I have lived such a miserable 
life since that awful night, that I feel as if I would 
go mad if left alone." Eoger Williams knew what 
it was to pass lonely hours in a forest, and he 
promised to come and see him again in the morn- 
ing, and, bidding him keep very quiet, left him. 

That night, as Williams lay in the wigwam of 
his Narragansett friend, he heard the Pequods all 
about him. He slept none, for he could not con- 
vince himself that they were not deliberately plan- 
ning to murder him. 

"If I succeed, I will do God a service," he 


thought. " Should I be slain I will be giving my 
life in a good cause." 

Nearly the entire night was passed sitting on his 
pallet of skins, holding his stout staff in his hands. 
Morning came at last, and the angry Pequods, 
who had not dared attack the holy man nn||he 
darkness, slunk away from the lodge in which he 

He rose early, and unobserved stole away to the 
wood in which he had left Isaac. It was some 
time before he could find him. He at last called 
his name softly three or four times and received an 
answer. Then a miserable white face looked out 
from the bushes, and a young man with the dead 
leaves clinging to his hair, crept to his side. 

"I have passed a horrible night," he whispered. 
"Don't leave me again, for I heard them all night 
long coming to kill me." 

"I cannot remain with you. To do so would be 
your ruin and perhaps would prove the ruin of 
hundreds of others," Williams answered. "You 
are now sufficiently rested to travel, and you must 
go hence." 

" Whither shall I go?" 

"When another night comes, take a boat and 
cross the bay to Providence, where you will be 
entertained by my wife and friends." 

"Can I do it?" the trembling wretch asked. 


"If you are discreet and keep well within the 
shadow of the forest." 

"If I am discovered, I will be killed, and oh! 
I am not prepared to die. I cannot meet my God 

Williams admonished him to pray and seek par- 
doning grace, not merely on account of his immi- 
nent danger, but as a duty. 

He returned to the Indian village, where he 
found the Pequods using all the skill and diplomacy 
of more civilized statesmen to enlist the services of 
the Narragansetts in a war against the English. 
Kegardless of their scowls and muttered threats, 
Williams passed through the throng into the coun- 
cil house. Miantonomoh was there, also Sassacus 
and some of his chiefs. 

Sassacus was delivering a harangue to the great 
sachem of the Narragansets, who sat upon his chair 
of state in silence. Williams listened to the im- 
passioned address with profound attention. Sas- 
sacus went on to show how the Indians had suffered 
at the hands of the whites, much of which Roger 
Williams had to admit was true. At first they 
came but a handful ; but now they were pouring in 
like an avalanche, and the Indians were gradually 
yielding to the pale-faced intruders. " Unless we 
rise up in our might and drive the pale-faced peo- 
ple back across the sea, we shall soon be swept 


away," he declared. "Some say we cannot do 
this. Where is the coward so base as to bend to 
the will of the white man? Go, see your small 
fields and hunting grounds day by day growing 
less, while the Indian is being pushed farther and 
farther from the land of his fathers." 

At conclusion of his speech, Roger Williams, to 
the amazement of both Pequods and Narragansetts, 
rose to reply. He admitted there had been bad 
Englishmen like Hunt; but there were also very 
many great and good men among the whites. His 
object in the New World was to bring the Indians 
to a knowledge of the true God. He dwelt long 
on the horrors of war, and earnestly pleaded the 
friendship of the English. 

Having finished his speech, he turned to the door 
of the council house just as a Pequod brave en- 
tered. At his girdle was a fresh, bleeding human 
scalp, the fiery red hair smeared with blood. 
Roger Williams started back, and exclaimed: 

"My God! they have killed Isaac Tulley!" 

Such was the fact. While he had been pleading 
for mercy, poor Tulley was discovered and slain in 
his hiding place. 

For two days longer Williams labored at the 
court of Miantonomoh. A hundred times his life 
was in peril; but the Pequods had respect for a 
good man who had dared so much to plead for mercy. 

Vol. 516 


The killing of Isaac Tulley almost within sight of 
the town of the Narragansetts was unfortunate for 
the plans of the Pequods. It enraged the Narra- 
gansetts against their dusky brethren and brought 
the conference to an end. Miantonomoh decided 
to remain neutral. 

Koger Williams had achieved the greatest vic- 
tory of his life; but it was at a greater risk than 
any general ever gained a battle, and his only 
weapon was the sword of truth. 



All was prepared the fire, the sword, the men 
To wield them in their terrible array. 

The army, like a lion from his den, 

March 'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay 

A human Hydra, issuing from its fen 

To breathe destruction on its winding way ; 

Whose head were heroes, which cut off in vain, 

Immediately in others grew again. 


ONCE more the trump of war awoke slumbering 
vengeance, and fair peace spread her wings and 
flew weeping away. The New England colonies 
were going through that fiery ordeal preparatory to 
the grand struggle for liberty. The war-whoop, 
the blazing cabin, the dancing savage with all his 
infernal orgies, the forest, the camp, the battle 
fields of one hundred and fifty years comprised the 
hard school in which patriots were trained to defend 
by force and arms those liberties which they had 
grown to love. 

The Pequods being foiled by Roger Williams in 
their efforts to form a combination of forces with 


the Narragansetts and Mohegans, resolved to harass 
the English until they drove them out of the Con- 
necticut valley. Continued injuries and murders 
roused Connecticut to action, and, on the first of 
May, the court of its three infant towns decreed 
immediate war. Uncas was their ally. At this 
time there were in the colonies two brave soldiers 
who had served in the Netherlands. These were 
Captains John Mason and John Underbill. The 
former had taken a prominent part in the military 
and civil affairs in Massachusetts and was now in 
Connecticut. The latter was an eccentric charac- 
ter, who at one time might have been mistaken for 
a priest, and at another for a buffoon. He was at 
Boston at the time of the declaration of war, and 
under him Massachusetts and Plymouth placed two 
hundred men, while in Connecticut Mason was 
given full command. 

Plymouth was notified of the commencement of 
hostilities again, by the arrival of a messenger from 
the afflicted district, with his face full of woe. 

"What news do you bring?" asked Governor 
Bradford, as he and many others gathered about 
the messenger. "We know it is bad, for your 
features show no other!" The messenger an- 
swered : 

"The Pequods are again on the warpath. A 
band of one hundred attacked the town of Weather- 


field, killed seven men, a woman and child, and 
carried way two girls." 

Governor Bradford, shocked at this atrocity, 
asked : 

" Why does not your colony declare war against 

"It has done so, and I am sent for recruits." 

For this war Mathew Stevens, the Spanish Puri- 
tan, recruited eighty men. He was astounded to 
find among the enlisted men under him Francis 
Billington. We will step aside in our story at this 
point to speak of the fate of John Billington, the 
precocious son of Francis Billington, who came so 
near to blowing up the Mayflower before the Pil- 
grims had landed. This youth grew up to be 
bolder and more desperate than his father, and 
committed the first murder ever committed in New 
England. For this murder he was arrested, tried, 
and hung in the year 1630. His untimely taking 
off did not soften the father. He became a morose 
man, always brooding over his imaginary wrongs, 
and year by year becoming more revengeful. 

Mathew Stevens, amazed that he should enlist in 
his company, went to Miles Standish and told him. 
Standish, with his keen eyes fixed on his friend, 

"Mark me, he hath a purpose in enlisting." 

"I believe he has." 


"Have an eye on him." 

The evening before the departure to war came, 
and the soldiers, who had been paraded on the 
streets, broke ranks and went to spend their last 
nights at home. At early dawn the vessel was to 
sail. Only a few men went on board that night as a 
guard, though their arms, ammunition, provisions 
and camping outfits had been taken on the vessel 
during the day. 

Late in the evening, long after the sun had gone 
down and the stars had opened their bright little 
eyes, and night had assumed her sway, Captain 
Stevens, having performed the last duty incumbent 
upon him as commander of the Plymouth troops, 
set out slowly up the hill to the home of Sarah 

No candle was burning in the window, and he 
thought perhaps Alice was not at home. As he 
drew nearer, he heard voices, one of which was 
unmistakably the voice of Francis Billington. 

"Spare me, Francis Billington," Sarah White 
was heard saying. "You have wrecked my life, 
lo! these many years. Will you not let me die in 
peace? " 

"Sarah White, ye know I have sworn it, and I 
will not violate my oath." 

What had he sworn that he now found impossi- 
ble to violate? Mathew Stevens asked himself. 


We must pardon Mathew for assuming the role of 
eavesdropper. For years this secret, like a great 
black giant, had stood between him and happiness. 
Now that he had an opportunity of learning it, 
who can wonder that he should yield to the tempta- 
tion to listen to the people within the cabin? With 
wildly beating heart, he crept around to the rear of 
the house, where he might hear better. 

There was a window there. The windows of 
the Pilgrims were made of paper dipped in linseed 
oil, and were no more transparent than stained 
glass, although they admitted some light. A can- 
dle was burning in the rear apartment, and he 
could see through the greased paper, dim shadowy 
forms within. 

The voices told more than he could see. His 
imagination truly pictured the scene within that 
apartment of misery. A woman was wringing her 
hands and weeping, while a man sat near her with 
the look of a fiend on his face. He could hear 
every word the woman said as she pleaded: 

"Spare me, Francis Billington, spare me!" 

Then the listener heard a chuckle and the voice 
of a devil answered: 

"Spare ye, Sarah White? Yes, I will spare ye. 
I don't care any more for ye. There is one con- 
dition upon which I will cease to trouble ye for- 


"What is the condition?" 

"Ye have a daughter." 

"What mean you?" asked the astonished wo- 
man, with a wild sob. 

"She is young and beautiful. There is some 
disparagement in our ages; but the difference is not 
great. When I return from this campaign " 

"Francis Billington!" the woman interrupted 
with a shriek so wild and fierce that it caused her 
listener to start. Her eyes blazed with the fury of 
a tigress, her breath came in short quick gasps, 
and she glared at him as if she would annihilate 
him. For a moment she could not utter another 
word, and he was. dumb with amazement, for he 
had never seen her defiant before. At last she 
gained her voice, and in low, earnest words, that 
trembled with pent-up emotion, continued: "No! 
no! Francis Billington, I would nail her up in her 
coffin sooner than that! I would become a hissing 
and a by-word for the entire colony sooner than 
that. Never! never!" 

"Dare ye refuse?" 

"I do." 

" Sarah White, ye have not seen one side of my 
nature yet; it is the dark side! Beware!" 

She ordered him to leave the house, and Billing- 
ton was growling out some words in dissent, and 
Mathew was debating in his mind the advisability 


of rushing in and knocking him down and flinging 
his worthless body from the house, when a light 
footstep coming down the street fell on his ear. 

Hurrying quickly around the corner, he espied a 
fairy-like being approaching the house. One mo- 
ment of indistinct vision and hesitation, then love 
and intuition overcame doubt and darkness. Her 
hand was in his, and his low, melancholy voice 
breathed : 


"I thought you would come before you left," 
she answered. 

"I could not go away without bidding you 

As he held both her hands in his own, his back 
was toward the door, and he saw not the dark form 
that flitted from the house. Alice saw and recog- 
nized it and, though she strove not to appear agi- 
tated, a shudder ran through her frame. Mathew 
at her invitation entered the house expecting to 
find Billington; but he was nowhere to be seen. 
The night was well-nigh spent, when he took his 
leave of Alice at the gate. 

Next day Captain Stevens was early astir. The 
morning air resounded with blasts of trumpets and 
roll of drums, and polished helmets and burnished 
arms glittered in the rising sun, as the soldiers 
hastened to fall into line to march to the vessel. 


Friends and relatives came to bid them adieu. 
Such partings are always sad, and many an eye 
grew dim and many a cheek sad on that bright 
summer morning. The air was mild and balmy ; 
the birds sang their sweetest songs, and nature in 
her gayest robes whispered of peace. Those soft 
New England skies and romantic landscapes 
breathed more of beauty and poetry than grim- 
visaged war. 

Mathew Stevens marched by at the head of his 
command to the great stone to which their boat 
was moored. He was half way to the place of 
embarkation, when Alice joined him and, with a 
smile, accompanied him to the boat. "While his 
soldiers were being taken on board, he grasped her 
hand and asked: 

" Alice, what have you to say at this hour of 

"Wait, hope and pray," she answered. 

He went aboard, and the vessel weighed anchor. 
Off Cape Cod they fell in with the Massachusetts 
forces under Captain Underbill and together sailed 
for the seat of war. 

The settlers in the valley of Connecticut knew it 
was not safe to wait for their allies on the sea 
coast. A new murder had aroused them to the 
existing dangers. Mrs. Anna Hutchinson, the wo- 
man banished from Massachusetts on account of 


her religious zeal, had settled in Rhode Island ; but, 
dreading the persecution of bigots which still threat- 
ened her, she took up her abode within the domain 
of New Netherland, near the present village of 
New Rochelle, in Westchester County, where she 
dwelt with her family in peace until the wickedness 
of the whites excited the wrath of the Indians. 
With blind fury they swept through the forest de- 
stroying every white settlement and settler. Mrs. 
Hutchinson did not escape. She and all her fam- 
ily, save a little grandchild, a fair curly-haired lit- 
tle girl of eight, were slain. Her house and barns 
were burned, her cattle butchered, and her grand- 
child carried away. The young warrior who spared 
her life took her in his arms and soothed her fears 
with gentle caresses. Four years later, when little 
Anna Collins was delivered to the Dutch Governor 
at New Amsterdam to be sent to her friends at 
Boston, in accordance with the terms of a treaty, 
she had forgotten her own language and was un- 
willing to leave her Indian friends. 

Mason, with ninety men, took up his headquar- 
ters at Hartford. With twenty soldiers, the cap- 
tain hastened to reinforce the garrison at Saybrook, 
where he found Underbill with Stevens, and the 
combined forces from Boston and Plymouth just 

" As Connecticut has begun the war, it is best 


that you, Captain Mason, should be commander-in- 
chief of the combined armies," suggested Underbill. 

Mason was accordingly chosen commander of all 
the forces. Uncas, one of the Pequod chiefs of 
royal blood, who was in rebellion against Sassacus, 
joined the English with seventy warriors. 

After a long council, it was determined to go to 
the land of the Narragansetts and march upon the 
rear of the Pequods, at a point from whence the 
attack would be least expected. So in three pin- 
naces the expedition sailed eastward. As they 
passed the Pequod country, those savages supposed 
that they had abandoned the Connecticut valley 
in despair. It was a fatal mistake, for the reliance 
in that belief proved their ruin. 

Two hundred Narragansetts joined the English 
and as many Niantuck warriors and this army took 
up their march to the enemy's country. 

"Who is he?" asked Underbill of Mathew on 
the evening of their first encampment in the forest. 

"His name is Billington," 

"He is not a very dear friend of yours?" 


"I fancy not. By accident I overheard him 
promise a Niantuck warrior his old shoes to cut 
your throat. He must be very much interested in 
your demise, or he would not sacrifice his shoes on 
such a march as this to get rid of you." 


The intelligence was alarming to Mathew, and 
he recalled to mind the remark of Captain Standish, 
when he was informed that Billington had joined 
the expedition. Stevens went to John Alden and 
told him what he had learned, and asked him to 
keep an eye on Billington and the assassin he had 

That night, while the young captain slept at the 
root of an old oak tree, the Niantuck assassin crept 
toward him, knife in hand. Just before he was 
near enough to give the fatal stab, he was seized 
and made prisoner. The savage made a fierce 
struggle; but Alden held him as if in a vice, and 
in a few moments had him secured. The camp 
was aroused, and Billington was arrested. He 
pleaded his innocence and denied any knowledge of 
the Indian's intent. The warrior was turned over 
to his chief to be dealt with, and Billington was 
driven from the camp. He went to Rhode Island, 
where he remained for several days, and from 
thence wandered to Boston, and finally returned to 

The stronghold of Sassacus was on a hill a few 
miles north of New London and Stonington, near 
the waters of the Mystic Kiver. It was a fort 
built of palisades, the trunks of trees, set firmly in 
the ground close together and rising above it ten or, 
twelve feet, with sharpened points. Within this 


enclosure, which was of circular form, were sev- 
enty wigwams covered with matting and thatch, 
and at two points were sally ports or gates of 
weaker construction, through which Mason and 
Underbill were destined to force an entrance. 
When the attacking party, quite undiscovered, 
reached the foot of the hill on which this fort stood, 
and arranged their camp, Mathew and John Alden, 
who went forward to reconnoitre, distinctly heard 
the sounds of noisy revelry among the savages. 

"Poor deluded beings," said Mathew with a 
sigh. "They believe all danger over; but it is 
not. Frequently in life when all seems peace and 
quiet, danger hovers like a dark-winged angel over 
the world." 

"They are holding their Belshazzar feast," an- 
swered John Alden. 

"What camp fires! what songs! what dancing!" 

It was a mild June night, the insects sung, and 
from a far-off hill, the whippoorwill poured forth 
its melancholy lay. It was a night of peaceful 
slumber, and it seemed like sacrilege to disturb it 
with the rude alarms of war. At midnight the 
sounds of revelry ceased, and at two in the morn- 
ing the army of invaders was aroused and formed 
for the attack. The order to advance was given, 
and the army crept up the hill, through the trees, 
and among the shrubs. 


Glittering helmets parted the flowering bushes, 
and the heavy boot of the soldier trod the sweet- 
scented roses to the earth. Scarcely had the ad- 
vance begun, when Underbill said to Stevens: 

"Our Indian allies, save the followers of Uncas, 
grow weak at heart they fall back." 

" They dread Sassacus, whom they fear as a sort 
of god," Mathew answered. 

" Though they lag behind, they will form a cor- 
don in the woods to slay all who escape," put in 

"If it be not us who escape," added the grave 

In the bright moonlight, the little army crept 
stealthily up the* wooded slope and were on the 
point of rushing to the attack, when the barking of 
a dog roused the sentinel, and he gave the alarm 
to the sleepers within. The savages slept heavily 
after the feast and carousal, and before they could 
be roused, Mason, Underbill, and Stevens burst in 
the sally ports. As the terrified Pequods rushed 
out of their wigwams, they were met by a volley 
of bullets, and the English, charging them with 
swords v drove them back into their dwellings. 

"Fire their wigwams," commanded Mason. In 
a moment the night was lit for miles around with 
the blaze of burning wigwams. In one short hour 
seven hundred men, women, and children perished 


in the flames and by the weapons of the English. 
The strong, the beautiful, the innocent were alike 
doomed to a common fate with the bloodthirsty 
and cruel. The door of mercy was shut. Not a 
dusky being among the Pequods was permitted 
to live. When the butchery was over, Captain 
Mason, leaning on his sword, dimmed with the 
conflict, exultingly exclaimed: 

"God is over us! He laughs his enemies to 
scorn, making them as a fiery oven. Thus does 
the Lord judge among the heathen, filling their 
places with dead bodies." 

The great sachem Sassacus was not in the doomed 
fort, but at another place called Groton, on the 
Thames, to which point Underhill had ordered his 
vessels. The English did not tarry long after their 
victory, but began a march to form a conjunction 
with the vessels. Three hundred warriors were 
sent out by Sassacus to attack them. Captain 
Stevens, with seventy men, was in advance of the 
main force and met the Indians. 

" Take shelter behind trees, and fire only when 
you are sure you have good aim," was his command 
to his men. They obeyed and opened fire on the 
Indians. They answered with steel -pointed ar- 
rows ; but the musket proved so much more deadly 
that the Indians were put to flight before the re- 
mainder of the army came up. Most of the victors 


(See page 256) 
After an original drawing by Freeland A. Carter. 

w. F 


in the flamea ai e weapons of the English. 

The strong, the beautiful, the innocent were alike 
doomed to a common fate with the bloodthirst} r 
and cruel, >r of mercy was shut. Not a 

dusky being* among the Pequods was permitted 
to live. When the butchery was over, Captain 
Mason, on his sword, dimmed with the 

confiurt, exultingly exclaimed: 

"God is over us! He laughs his enemies to 
scorn, making them as a fiery oven. Thus does 
the Lord judge among the heathen, filling their 
places with dead bodies." 

. . . aooo. %wt _ , , , 

eat sacnem (fe^&f u&) was no ^ m tne doomed 

fort, I'^^^^^^^'^^^^^^TrtVh, on the 
Thames, to which point Underbill had ordered his 
vessel*. The English did not tarry long after their 
victory, but began a march to form a conjunction 
with die vessels. Three hundred warriors were 
sent out by Sassacus to attack them. Captain 
Stevt-h*, with seventy men, was in advance of the 
main force and met the Indians. 

" r .i iter behind trees, and fire only when 

you von have good aim," was his command 

to his men. They obeyed and opened fire on the 

.;uis. T -wered with steel-pointed ar- 

rows; 1> ,usket proved so much more deadly 

' that the were put to flight before the re- 

mainder of the army came up. Most of the victors 


then sailed for the Connecticut, making the air 
vocal with sacred song. The remainder of the Con- 
necticut troops with the friendly Indians marched 
through the wilderness to Hartford to protect the 
settlements in that vicinity, while Mathew hastened 
to join the armed settlers from Massachusetts and 
Plymouth, to take part in the closing tragedy of 
the Pequod war. 

Sullen, silent, and stately, Sassacus sat in his 
embowered dwelling, realizing that the end of his 
reign had come. The remnant of his warriors, 
escaped from the ruined citadel, came to him with 
their tale of woe; but he sat unmoved. Exasper- 
ated at his silence and stupidity, they charged all 
their misfortunes to his haughtiness and misconduct. 
Tearing their hair, stamping violently, with fierce 
gestures, they swore to destroy him. He still sat 
unmoved, and a tomahawk was raised to slay him, 
when the blast of a trumpet fell on their ears. 
No sound at that moment could be more appalling. 
From the head-waters of the Mystic, came almost 
two hundred armed settlers from Massachusetts and 
Plymouth, advancing to seal the doom of the 

Should they fight or fly? There was little time 
for deliberation. Those invincible pale-faced con- 
querors from across the sea were on them. They had 
conquered in the past, they would conquer in the 
Vol. 517 


future. After a hasty deliberation, the Pequods 
decided on flight. They set fire to their wigwams 
and fort and, with their women and children, hur- 
ried across the Thames and fled westward, intending 
to seek refuge among the Mohawks across the 

The English pressed on in close pursuit, and as 
the chase was across the beautiful country border- 
ing on Long Island Sound, a track of desolation 
was left behind, for w r igwams and cornfields were 
destroyed, and helpless men, women, and children 
put to. the sword. The fugitives at last took 
refuge in the Sasco swamp, near Fairfield. where 
they all surrendered to the English, excepting Sas- 
sacus and a few of his advisers, who escaped and 
fled into the land of the Mohawks. 

Terrible as was the Pequod war, it had a whole- 
some eifect. A blow had been struck which gave 
peace to New England for forty years. A nation 
had been swept from existence in a day. But few 
of the once powerful Pequods survived the na- 
tional disaster. Sassacus lived in exile until he 
fell by the hand of an assassin, and his scalp was 
then sent to the English whom he hated. He was 
the last of his royal line excepting Uncas, who 
now returned to the land of his fathers and became 
a powerful sachem, renowned in war and peace. 
He remained a firm friend of the English and was 



buried among the graves of his kindred near the 
falls of the Yantic, in the city of Norwich, where 
a granite monument, erected by the descendants of 
his white friends, marks the 
place of his sepulchre. It 
is a question, after 
all, if Sassaeus, ac- 
cording to 
the nature 
of things, 
was not the 
HJ" patriot of 

his people 
and Uncas c ---. 
the traitor. The lat- 
ter loved the English 
because he hated his 
chief from whose 
authority he rebelled. 
Eunice Mauwee, 
who died at Kent in 

Connecticut, in 1860, at the age of one hundred 
years, was the last full-blood Pequod. The race 
is now extinct. 




O Freedom ! thou art uot, as poets dream, 

A fair young girl, with light and delicate limbs, 

And wavy tresses gushing from the cap 

With which the Roman master crowned his slave, 

When he took off the gyves. 


" THAT will end war between the white and the 
red men!" So prophesied Captain Miles Standish, 
the stout old Puritan, when he learned the fate of 
the Pequods. "It will be many years before an- 
other Indian tribe in New England will dare take 
up arms against the English." 

And Captain Standish ought to know if any man 
did, for he was thoroughly versed in the art of war 
among the savages. He had fought the first bat- 
tles with the Indians in New England and borne 
home on a pole the head of a belligerent chief whom 
he had slain in personal combat. It was not a 
very Christian-like proceeding and would be con- 
demned by all civilized people of to-day, yet it had 
the effect of intimidating other Indians. When 


Mathew wrote an account of the affair to Mr. 
Robinson, still at Leyden, Holland, he answered: 

"Oh, how happy a thing it would have been, 
had you converted some, before you killed any." 

The white men of that age warred with heathens 
who could be conquered only by acts at which civ- 
ilized people shudder. Captain Standish, having 
heard a full account of the Pequod war from the 
lips of Mathew Stevens, gave expression to the 
very satisfactory remark with which this chapter 

" That will end war between the white and the 
red men." 

"Why do you think it will?" asked Mathew. 

" It will be a great many years before the Indians 
can recover sufficient courage to take up arms 
against the English." 

"I hope your predictions will prove true." 

" Another good result of the war will be a great 
influx of immigration to Connecticut." 

It was not long before Miles Standish witnessed 
the fulfillment of the last prediction. No sooner 
were peace and security fully established in the 
region of the Connecticut by the destruction of the 
Pequods than emigration thither was resumed. 

In the year 1637, several gentlemen destined to 
occupy conspicuous places in history as the found- 
ers of a state arrived in Boston. The most con- 


spicuous of the new arrivals was Rev. John Daven- 
port, a popular Puritan preacher of London, who 
had been persecuted by Archbishop Laud until he 
was forced to take refuge in Rotterdam. Another 
was Theophilus Eaton, an opulent London mer- 
chant, and a member of Mr. Davenport's congre- 
gation, and a third was Edward Hopkins, also a 
wealthy London merchant and a member of the 
same society. They were much attached to Mr. 
Davenport, and gladly came to share his voluntary 
exile from his native land. 

Mr. Davenport and his congregation belonged to 
a school which sought to carry out in practice the 
idea of finding in the Scriptures a special rule for 
everything in church and state. For the purpose 
of trying the experiment in government on the 
basis of that idea they desired an unoccupied field. 
The soldiers who had just returned from pursuing 
the fugitive Pequods along the shores of Long Island 
Sound loudly praised the beauty and fertility of. 
that region, and early in autumn Mr. Eaton and a 
small party visited the country. He was charmed 
with the harbor on the north side of the sound, and 
on the banks of that body of water, which the 
Indians called Quinnipiac, he erected a hut, where 
some of the party passed the winter to try the cli- 
mate. The hut was built on the present site of 
New Haven, Conn. Block, the Dutch navigator, 



who had anchored for several days in the harbor 
near this place, had named it "Koodenberg," or 
Bed Ilills, from the red cliffs a little inland. 

Early in the spring of 1638, peace being restored 
beyond question, Mr. Davenport and his friends 
sailed for Quinnipiac, where they arrived abotit 
the middle of April. They were accompanied by 
a number of followers, 
mostly persons from Lon- 
don who had been engaged 
in trade, and in proportion 
to their number, they 
formed the richest colony 
in America. They spent 
their first Sabbath there 
a warm April day passing 
most of the day under the 
shadow of a great oak, 
where Mr. Davenport 
preached a sermon on the subject of Jesus being 
led into the wilderness. They purchased land of the 
natives and proceeded to plant the seeds of a new 
State, by forming articles of association, called a 
" Plantation Covenant," according to peculiar ideas. 
By this covenant they resolved, " That, as in mat- 
ters that concern the gathering and ordering of the 
church, so likewise in all public offices which con- 
cern civil order, as choice of magistrates and offi- 



cers, making and repealing of laws, dividing allot- 
ments of inheritance, and all things of like nature, 
they would be ordered by the rules which the 
Scriptures held forth." 

Thus they began their settlement without refer- 
ence to any government or community on the face 
of the earth. The king of England seemed to be 
no more of them than the Grand Kahn. 

The place where the first hut was built was on 
the corner of what is now Church and George 
Streets, New Haven, and the spot whereon stood 
the oak tree their first temple of worship was at 
the intersection of George and College Streets. 

For about a year this little community endeav- 
ored to learn by experience, from reflection, and 
light from Heaven through the medium of prayer, 
what would be the best kind of social and political 
organization for the government of the colony. 
Frequently they counselled with each other over 
the future and their form of government, and as 
the society began to grow, there came other ele- 
ments into it which demanded more than they had 
yet ordained. 

Early in the summer of 1639, all the "free 
planters " assembled in a barn to compare views and 
settle upon a plan of civil government according to 
the word of God. Mr. Davenport, after a long and 
earnest prayer, preached a sermon from the text: 


"Wisdom hath builded her house; she hath 
hewn out her seven pillars." 

In his discourse, after commending their deliber- 
ations to the Ruler of the universe, and urging 
upon them the gravity of their undertaking, he 
showed the fitness of choosing seven competent men 
to construct the government, in which he proposed 
for their adoption four fundamental articles: 

First: That the Scriptures contained a perfect 
rule for the government of men in the family, in 
the Church, and in the commonwealth. 

Second: That they would be ordered by the 
rules which the Scriptures held forth. 

Third: That their purpose was to be admitted 
into church fellowship, according to Christ, as 
man and God should fit them thereunto. 

Fourth : That they held themselves bound to es- 
tablish such civil order, according to God, as would 
be likely to secure the greatest good to themselves 
and their posterity. 

With scarce a moment's hesitation or debate 
theses articles were unanimously adopted, where- 
upon Mr. Davenport presented two other articles de- 
signed to put into practical operation the theories 
of the other four. These" were in substance as fol- 

First: That church members only should be free 
burgesses, or freemen endowed with political fran- 


chises, and that they only should choose magis- 
trates and transact civil business of every kind. 

Second: That twelve or more men should be 
chosen from the company and tried for their fitness, 
and these twelve should choose seven .of their 
number as the seven pillars of the church. 

These sub-resolutions, or articles, were adopted 
as promptly as the others had been, and subscribed 
to by about sixty-three persons present, and shortly 
after fifty others added their names. Twelve men 
were chosen, and they selected the "seven pillars 
of the church." After due deliberation, these 
"pillars" proceeded to organize a church. Their 
assistants, nine in number, were regarded as free- 
men or "free burgesses," and the sixteen elected 
Theophilus Eaton as magistrate for one year. Four 
other persons were chosen to be deputies, and these 
constituted the executive and legislative depart- 
ments of the new born State of Quinnipiac. To 
these Mr. Davenport gave a "charge," grounded 
upon Deuteronomy I. : 16 and 17. A secretary 
and sheriff were appointed. The "Freemans' 
charge," which was a substitute for an oath, gave 
no pledge of allegiance to king or Parliament, nor 
any other authority on the face of the earth, ex- 
cepting that of the civil government here estab- 
lished. " It was a State independent of all others. " 
It was resolved that there should be an annual 


general court or meeting of the whole body in the 
month of October, and that the "Word of God, 
should be the only rule to be attended unto in 
ordering the affairs of government." 

Orders were issued for the building of a meeting- 
house; for the distribution of house-lots and pas- 
turage ; for regulating the prices of labor and com- 
modities, and for taking measures for resisting the 
attacks of savages, for, notwithstanding they had 
every assurance of a long and continued peace, they 
still entertained a dread of the savages. They also 
resolved to choose their own company, and it was 
ordained that "none should come to dwell as 
planters without their consent and allowance, 
whether they came in by purchase or otherwise." 
In 1640, they named their settlement New Haven. 

It must be borne in mind that all the English 
settlements in the Connecticut valley existed in 
the face of Dutch opposition. The Dutch gov- 
ernor had received peremptory orders from the 
home government to hold Connecticut at all hazards; 
but the weak, vacillating Van Twiller was governor 
of New Netherland, and was unable to enforce any 
order. The English planters, in face of his oppo- 
sition, perfected their system of government and 
prepared to possess the land as far west as the 
Hudson River. People from Quinnipiac and the 
valley planted settlements at Fairfield, Norwalk, 


Guilford, Stratford and Mil ford on the Housatonic. 
Captain Patrick, the commander of a part of the 
forces sent from Massachusetts against the Pequods, 
who had married a Dutch wife, settled as far west- 
ward as Greenwich with a son-in-law of the elder 
Governor Winthrop. At that time there were no 
Dutch settlers east of the Harlem Eiver, excepting 
Bronck and his lessees or tenants. The Dutch, 
however, continued in possession of their lands at 
Good Hope, where a small garrison was kept. The 
English had as little regard for the rights of the 
Dutch as the Hollanders had formerly paid to the 
rights of the English. As they grew stronger, they 
plowed up the Dutchmen's lands, excusing them- 
selves for the intrusion on the plea that the ground 
was lying idle and ought to be cultivated by some- 
body. The Dutch commissary attempted to resist 
these encroachments; but the sturdy Englishmen 
cudgeled his soldiers, declaring that they and the 
English in Virginia were Egyptians a term given 
in derision, which at this day seems to have lost 
its force. 

The matter was discussed at New Amsterdam, 
and the Dutch governor made a great bluster about 
driving the English out of their domain. Hans 
Van Brunt, who had been visiting his friend 
Mathew at Plymouth, and whose knowledge of the 
strength of the English was better than any other 


man's in the New Netherland, was consulted as to 
the advisability- of driving the English out of Con- 

" They have a separate government and claim no 
allegiance to the king of England," urged the 
more belligerently inclined Dutch. 

"Nevertheless, an attempt to expel them from 
the valley of the Connecticut will involve us in a 
war with England," answered Hans. 

"Are they strong?" 

"Not yet; but they daily increase in strength." 

So the English in Connecticut, despite the 
bluster of the Dutch at New Amsterdam, went on 
planting and building, and emigrants continued to 
pour into the "goodly country." The troubles 
with their neighbors, both pale and dusky, and the 
necessity which called for fundamental laws, in- 
duced the planters of the valley to meet in conven- 
tion at Hartford in the middle of January, 1639, 
to form a constitution of government. Like that 
of the New Haven Colony, it was framed without 
the slightest reference to any other government. It 
required that all persons of the commonwealth 
should be freemen and should take an oath of 
allegiance to the general government; that the 
governor, to be elected at each spring meeting of 
the freemen, should be a member of some church. 
There, should be as many magistrates, at no time 


to be less than six, as well as other officers, as 
should be found necessary. There should be a 
house of deputies, composed of four from each of 
the then existing towns, and as many as the gen- 
eral court or legislature should determine from 
towns that might subsequently be created, and the 
governor, four magistrates and a majority of the 
deputies should be competent to make all laws 
and deal generally for the good of the common- 
wealth. In the absence of special laws, " the rule 
of the word of God " was to be followed. Thus 
were two governments alike democratic and theo- 
cratic formed in Connecticut. 

The instrument above referred to has been re- 
garded as the "first example in history of a written 
constitution, a distinct organic law, constituting a 
government and defining its powers." It boldl}- 
recognized no authority outside of its own inherent 
powers, and it continued in force as the funda- 
mental law of Connecticut one hundred and eighty 
years. It secured for that commonwealth a degree 
of social order and general prosperity rarely equalled 
in the life of nations. The political organization 
under it was called the Connecticut Colony, and 
the domain acquired the title of the land of steady 
habits. Although the two colonies were not united 
until twenty-six years afterward, in the year 1639 


was laid the foundation of the commonwealth of 

The Hartford Convention was another nail in the 
coffin of tyranny and monarchy. The infant col- 
ony, cradled in liberty, could bring forth only 



Oh, such a deed 

As from the body of contraction plucks 
The very soul ; and sweet religion makes 
A rhapsody of words. Heaven's face doth glow; 
Yea, this solidity and compound mass, 
With tristful visage, as against the doom, 
Is thought sick at the act. 


SOME people seem born to make others misera- 
ble, though the task should add to their own sor- 
row; but it becomes their mission in life. They 
are the children of darkness and serve their master, 
even though it be against their own interests. 
Francis Billington was such a person. He hated 
people, because he could not help it. There was 
no forgiveness nor forbearance in his nature. 

A man who hates can never be trusted. He is 
not a good citizen, and would make a partial mag- 
istrate or juror. Billington's son John had inher- 
ited his father's disposition, and it brought his 
career to an early end on the gallows. 



On the return of the soldiers from their success- 
ful Pequod campaign, fearing he would be pun- 
ished for his effort to assassinate Mathew Stevens, 
Billington fled once more into the wilderness. 
Whither he had gone no one knew until a report 
was brought to the village that a man answering 
his description had been seen at New Amsterdam. 
The people congratulated themselves on being rid 
of him forever. A change quickly came over 
Alice and her mother. Not long after it was cur- 
rently reported that Sarah White had been known 
to smile, and that her cheek, so long haggard and 
pale, had assumed a flush of health. This, if true, 
was remarkable, for no one had known Sarah 
White to smile for years. 

The change was even greater in Alice. A 
neighbor passing the cottage actually heard her 
singing. Birds only sing when happy, and if Alice 
sang, she must be nearing the land of happiness. 

Mathew returned safe from the war in far-off 
Connecticut, loaded with honors. Since his return 
the young captain was seen more frequently with 
Alice, and the good dames put their heads together, 
and began to whisper that there would be another 
wedding soon. 

"Why don't they wed?" Mrs. Hopkins asked, 
as she plied her knitting needles, on the afternoon 
of her call on Mrs. Fuller. 

Vol. 618 


"I know not," was Mrs. Fuller's answer, as she 
picked her wool for the cards. 

" Mathew is old enough," continued Mrs. Hop- 
kins. "His hair which I can remember on the 
Mayflower as being black as midnight is now 
sprinkled with gray." 

"Ah! " he was a blythe young lad then," re- 
turned Nancy Fuller. "I remember our voyage 
on the Mayflower as well as if it were but yester- 
day. Those were trying times, Mary Hopkins." 

"You speak truly, Nancy, "good dame Hopkins 
answered. "We were Pilgrims, bound we knew 
not where." 

"Unless to Heaven." 

"Alas, Nancy, many did go. Don't I remem- 
ber how poor Rose Standish sickened and died?" 

" And then followed good Mr. Mullins and Gov- 
ernor Carver and others so rapidly, that I thought 
we should all perish," and the good dames shook 
their heads until the ruffles of their caps trembled. 
Realizing that they had slightly wandered from the 
subject, Nancy Hopkins returned to it by saying: 

" I did hear that he was seen last Sabbath talk- 
ing quite seriously with her." 

"Did you?" 

"Yes, Priscilla Alden she as was Priscilla 
Mullins told me, and she hopes they will soon 


"Did they ever quarrel?" 

"People say not." 

" Then wherefore do they delay the wedding?" 

"That is the mystery." 

This was the mystery which puzzled the whole 
colony. Mathew learned of the disappearance of 
Billington soon after his return, and was among 
the first to note the great change that was produced 
in Alice and her mother. One day while walking 
with Alice, he said: 

"Billington will never come back." 

A cloud swept over her fair face as she an- 
swered : 

"Mother says he will." 

" Why does she think so?" 

" He has gone away so often, and she hoped it 
was forever; but he always returned." 

" Bid your mother never fear, Alice. He can 
do her no harm. The poisonous fangs of that 
human reptile have been drawn. Since his bold 
attempt on my life, he will be watched." 

She grew paler as he recalled the attempted as- 
sassination, and with a shudder exclaimed: 

"He may yet slay you." 

"Fear not, Alice," he responded cheerfully. 
"We are emerging from a state of barbarism into 
a glorious state of civilization. We have a regular 
government and officers, who boldly execute the 


laws. He cannot harm me. The fate of his son 
will be a standing menace to him, should he ever 
return, which I do not believe he will ever dare to 

From discussing Billington and his disappearance, 
Mathew began once more to plead his cause with 
Alice. " Alice, I love you and you only, as my 
constancy in all these years proves. Our sands of 
life are running out; why not go down the valley 
of life together?" 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she answered: 
"Not yet; I cannot consent to accept the name 
of an honorable man, while mother withholds that 

"If you knew that secret would you wed me?" 
" Could I lay bare my whole life's history and 
say, ' this or this is the blot on my name; now 
you know all ' and you still persisted in making 
me your wife, I would consent." 

" Your mother is cruel to retain the secret." 
"Her seeming cruelty may be kindness." 
" No, no. Terrible as it may be, the reality can- 
not equal suspense and conjecture. Has she prom- 
ised you she would reveal it?" 

"Indirectly; but she puts me off." 

"She must tell!" 


"Yes, must," and the lines on his face were 


hard and firm. "She shall tell one or both. 
Our lives are being wasted in misery, and I will 
know what the blighting secret is that blasts our 

"Shall I tell her this?" 

" Tell her for me she must reveal it now. We 
will know the very worst," he declared almost 

Then they strolled along the forest path in si- 
lence. Their resolution was formed and they were 
happy. Through the deep green vistas where the 
boughs arched overhead and showed the sunlight 
flashing in the beautiful perspective; through dewy 
fern, from which the startled hare leaped and fled 
at their approach; by mantled pools and fallen 
trees, and down in hollow places rustling among 
last year's leaves, whose scent awoke sad memories 
of the past, the lovers strolled. By meadow gates 
and fence rows fragrant with wild flowers, and by 
thatched cottages, whose inmates looked with satis- 
faction on the pair for whom the whole colony was 
solicitous, they walked in tranquil meditation. The 
bee passed onward, humming of the work it had 
to do; the idle gnats congregated in small swarms, 
forever going round and round in one contracting 
or expanding ring, yet seeming to keep before 
them, dancing in the sunlight; the colors of the 
long grass came and went as if the light clouds 


floating in the air intimidated it, and the birds, 
seeming to partake of the inward joy of these fond 
hearts, sang gayly, sang as they had never sung 
before. When within sight of the cottage, Mathew 
stopped and said: 

"I will go no farther. The matter must be left 
wholly with you." 

"I will do it," she answered firmly. 

" Get the truth the whole truth, be it ever so 
black and damning." 

"I will." 

"Do it this very night." 

"That I shall." 

" And on the morrow, when I hear it from your 
lips, I will show you quickly that I live not in the 
past, but the present. Be the stain ever so black, 
I will say, 'Alice, be mine!' ' 

She raised her glad eyes, dimmed with joy, to 
his face; her heart gave a wild throb of hope, and 
she involuntarily exclaimed: 

"O Mathew!" 

He sprang to her side, his arm encircled her 
waist, and with his face aglow with joy, he gasped: 

"Alice " 

"No, no; wait until the morrow," she inter- 
rupted, gently putting him aside. " For the pres- 
ent, adieu!" 

She ran away up the hill, and paused near a 


gnarled oak to look back at him. He had already 
turned about and was slowly wending his way 
homeward. Alice was still several rods from her 
cottage, when she discovered a man walking rap- 
idly along another path toward it. Involuntarily, 
she clasped her hand to her heart. Her breath 
grew heavy and clogged, and she clung to a tree 
for support. That man she would know in any 
land or any disguise. 

"He has returned!" she sobbed. "Alas, 
mother's predictions are true." 

His clothes were old and faded, and his beard 
long and white. His frame was slightly bent be- 
neath the weight of years. One feels a reverence 
for a gray-haired saint, blooming for heaven; but 
the aged sinner is so repulsive that one turns from 
him with loathing and disgust. There was noth- 
ing in Francis Billington, old and white-haired 
though he had grown, calculated to inspire respect. 
He was a matured devil and more dangerous in his 
advancing years than when younger, for he was 
nearer to his master. 

" He has returned as mother said," Alice gasped. 

Then, moved by some strange impulse, she fol- 
lowed him up the hill. He was going directly to 
her mother's cottage. Behind the green arbor, 
near enough to hear all that would be said, she 
paused. He halted at the door and rapped. Sarah 


White opened the door and started back, ex- 

" Lord, deliver me! " 

There was a strange look on Billington's face. 
It was no longer triumphant, but almost melan- 
choly. He leaned against the side of the door and 

" I have seen him." 

Sarah "White wrung her Tiands, and breathed 
a short prayer. 

"lie lives," Billington added and, turning 
slowly about, left the premises. Lost in amaze- 
ment at what she had seen and heard, Alice could 
only repeat: 

" ' I have seen him. He lives.' " Whom had 
he seen? Who lived? She would have given 
worlds to know. Had another link been forged in 
the chain of fate which was dragging her down to 
misery ? The sun had set, and the sober gray of 
twilight begun to envelope the earth, before she 
recovered sufficiently to carry out the resolution 
she and Mathew had formed. 

"I will go. I will know whom he has seen, 
and who lives. It is a duty she owes me." 

Mathew was walking slowly homeward, when a 
step near by startled him. Turning, he saw a man 
leaning upon a stout staff. A glance at his repul- 


sive face, whitened hair and beard, and he knew 

"You have come back," he said. 


" Can you give surety for future good behavior?" 

" Fear not, Mathew ; I am done with vengeance." 

" Since when have you adopted so good a reso- 

"Verily, ' it is hard to kick against the pricks.' 
He who raises his arm in rebellion against God, 
will learn in the end that he has fed upon the 
husks. I have been tossed about here and there, 
and in my old age have come to acknowledge the 
goodness of God, so I abide his decree, hoping 
thereby to receive mercy." 

" "Pis often thus," Mathew returned. " Men go 
through life in defiance of their Creator. Their 
young and vigorous days are spent in rebellion, 
and when, under the icy blasts of age, their hair 
blooms for the grave, and they are no longer ser- 
viceable to Satan, they desert him and return to 
God. Having cheated God with their life, they 
cheat the devil in death. I would not treat even 
the devil so meanly." 

"Be not too hard on me, Mathew. Perchance 
there may be some good in me yet." 

Mathew had no confidence in his pretended re- 
formation. They sat upon the mossv bank of the 


brooklet, whose gentle waters rippled over the peb- 
bles at the bottom. A squirrel ran nimbly along 
the path, paused a moment and, rearing itself on 
its hind legs, gazed at the strangers, then frisked 
up a tree, halting at the fork to peep saucily at 
them. Mathew saw it not, heard not the mourn- 
ful song of the streamlet, for his thoughts were 
on the man before him, and he was asking himself 
what new diabolical scheme he was planning. 

Billington at last broke the silence by asking: 

"Mathew, have ye a brother?" 

"I do not know." 

"Are ye a Spaniard by birth?" 

" I have so been told." 

"Do ye know where ye were born?" 

"Probably at St. Augustine, Florida." 

"Are yer parents living?" 

"I know not." 

"When were ye brought from Florida?" 

"About 1586, by Sir Francis Drake. What is 
your motive in these questions?" 

"Perchance I can clear up some of the mystery 
which surrounds yer early life." 

Mathew had no faith in either his ability to 
clear up the mystery, or his desire to do so; but 
there was nothing in his past life, so far as he 
knew, to conceal. He nodded, and Billington 
went on: 


"I have heard that there lives a man in Virginia 
named Stevens." 

"But my name in Spanish was Estevan." 

"So was his." 

"How old is he?" 

"About yer own age, perchance two or three 
years older." 

"Is he of Spanish descent?" 

"He is." 

"Do you know his full name?" 

"Philip Stevens, or Philip Estevan." 

Mathew gave Billington a searching glance, 
which seemed to say, "I will see if you tell me 
the truth." What object could Billington have in 
telling a falsehood? The man who had proved 
Mathew's enemy met his gaze unflinchingly and 

" The source from whence I derive my informa- 
tion is reliable. While in New Amsterdam, I 
met a man, who had been for several months in 
Jamestown, Virginia, and he informed me that 
there lived a man there named Philip Stevens, who 
was born in St. Augustine, Florida." 

"Did you learn anything more of him?" 


"It may be my brother Philip," Mathew 

Brother! How sweet yet strange the word 


sounded to him who had never known a relative! 
He had no recollection of his captivity, nor of his 
parents. Often since he had been told the story 
of his life by Mr. Eobinson, he had thought of 
his brother Philip and wished that they might 
meet. He was so strongly impressed that his brother 
was dead, that he thought if there lived a Philip 
Stevens in Virginia, it must be of some other 

Yet his brother had been a roving sailor, and 
nothing was more probable than that he had settled 
in some part 6f the New World. Rising, he took a 
step nearer to Billington, and asked: 

" Have you told me the truth, or was this story 
hatched up, to raise false hopes?" 

" As God lives, I heard the story. Whether it 
be true or false I can not say," Billington answered. 

Mathew went home. Entering his room, his 
eyes fell on the quaint, old-fashioned chest. Every 
time he entered this apartment this old Spanish 
chest had met his eye, until it ceased to be an 
object of curiosity: but now it assumed a new in- 
terest to him. 

He went to it and raised the lid. The lock had 
been broken by Sir Francis Drake in his eagerness 
to ascertain its contents. 

Many strange emotions swayed his soul as he ten- 
derly lifted the lid. His father and mother had 



once touched that lid. Were they living or dead? 
Stooping, he took out the old manuscript, written 


no doubt by his father and, gazing on the old 
parchment yellow with age, said, "Would that I 
could read it! It might go far toward unravelling 


the mystery of my life." As he carefully put it 
away, he added, "The first Spaniard that lands in 
New England shall translate it for me." 

He closed the lid, and sat writing letters until a 
late hour, when he went to bed. 

While Mathew slept, Alice was passing through 
the most trying ordeal of her life. On entering 
the house, she found her mother more agitated than 
she had ever been before, while the startled look 
in her eyes bordered on insanity. She said 
nothing until late in the evening, when she sud- 
denly paused in her work at the spinning-wheel 
and asked: 

"Mother, whom had he seen?" 

Sarah White knew that she referred to the re- 
mark of Billington, and answered: 

"Hush, Alice." 

"Who still lives?" 

"Don't ask me now, Alice. You shall know 
all soon." 

"I must know all now, mother." 

"In God's holy name, I beseech you do not 
seek to probe that secret at this time." 

"Mother, I must," the daughter answered, 
tears streaming down her cheeks. 


"I have waited; I have waited for years. I 
have seen the blooming hours of youth flit by like 


larks skimming over the meadow. I have seen 
child ren grow up to be men and women. My young 
life has been withered and blighted, as if by a 
curse. It shall be so no longer. Mother," she 
concluded fiercely, "I will know that secret!" 

Her mother sank into a chair and buried her 
face in her hands. Though she trembled from 
head to foot, neither sob nor groan escaped her 
throat. Without daring to look on the face of her 
daughter, she murmured: 

"Alice, it is for you spare me!" 

"I cannot. I will not spare myself." 

" You will drive me mad you will drive me 

" Your silence will drive me mad. Tell me that 
secret, be it so humiliating that I bury my head in 
the dust. Be it so blighting that it withers as the 
hottest fire, I will bear it." 

"O God, help me to change this mad resolu- 
tion ! I would spare her, my great love for her 
would spare her." 

"Whom has Billington seen, mother? Who 

"Ask me not." 

"I will ask in trumpet tones, until I get your 

"Would you kill me? Would you have me 
hide my head from all who know me? Would you 


have me never look upon the face of my own child 

" Your mystery is killing me, mother. You are 
blighting my happiness. Tell me, be the secret 
ever so black. If you have crosses I will help 
you bear them. Let me know all, then I will tell 
it to Mathew. Who knows but his love may o'er- 
leap any chasm?" 

The mother rose like one with a suddenly formed 
resolution and, in a voice that was strangely calm, 
said : 

"Alice, give me a few hours." 

"How many?" 

"Until morning." 

"Will you tell me then?" 

"Yes. I swore I would never breathe his 
name; but I will seek absolution from the oath. 
You shall know all when next you see me." 

" Whose name did you swear never to breathe 
my father's?" 


"Was he a villain?" 

"You shall judge." 

Alice thought nothing of her mother's words at 
the time; but subsequent events were destined to 
forcibly recall them to her mind. She went to 
bed, and in the hope of having the mystery of 
years unravelled next 'morning, fell asleep. Her 


mother did not retire, and when Alice slept 
soundly, she crept to the bedside, gazed for a mo- 
ment on her face, then, falling on her knees, raised 
her eyes to heaven in mute appeal. She arose, 
wrote a few lines on a slip of paper, and pinned it 
to the pillow of the sleeping girl. 

This done, she made up a bundle of a few effects, 
put on her stout shoes, her hood and her cloak. 
At the door she paused a moment, went back and 
kissed the forehead of her sleeping daughter and, 
turning, quitted the house. The door was closed 
so softly that the sleeper was not disturbed. Once 
outside, she went down the path, crossed the ra- 
vine, and went up the hill to the cabin of John 
Billington, where she paused and rapped. A re- 
pulsive head in a red night-cap was poked out of 
the window near the door. 

"What do you want?" Billington asked. 

"Where did you see him?" 

"At New Amsterdam." 

The head disappeared within the house, and she 
hurried away into the forest. 

Vol. 519 



Men, who their duties know, 
But know their rights and, knowing, dare maintain ; 

Prevent the long aimed blow, 
And crush the tyrant, while they rend the chain ; 

These constitute a State. 


WHEN Lord Baltimore found the Roman Catho- 
lics in England suffering from the persecutions of 
the Puritans on one side, who were daily increas- 
ing, and the Churchmen on the other, he piously 
decided to provide for them an asylum in America. 
When he sailed in the summer of 1627 for Avalon, 
for the purpose of inspecting in person, with view 
to planting there, the nobleman had in his com- 
pany a man whose appearance and address were cal- 
culated to excite the attention of even a casual 

He had the singular appearance of one who had 
all his life been engaged in a fruitless search. He 
was a very quiet person, and was scarcely ever 
known to mingle with the crowd. He was past 


middle age, tall and graceful, with rather thin, 
cadaverous features. His blue eyes were grave and 
melancholy, his face wore an expression of sadness, 
and his hair was silvered almost to whiteness, while 
his well -trimmed beard was just a shade darker 
than his hair. 

One might, from his gravity, suspect him of 
being a priest; then his erect form and martial bear- 
ing would on the other hand indicate the soldier. 
He was a man of wealth, and was very liberal with 
his money. The stranger was a man of few words, 
and on no occasion and under no circumstance 
could he be induced to speak of the past. It was 
not known from whence he had come. Although 
a man who had beyond a doubt travelled exten- 
sively, he never referred to the countries he had 
seen. This singular individual, in whom Lord 
Baltimore placed the greatest confidence, was known 
as Mr. William Roby. There was an unauthentic 
rumor afloat that he had been in Flanders. 

Tradition spoke of a brave Colonel Roby, who 
had distinguished himself in the wars in Flanders. 
Captain Miles Standish of- New Plymouth had 
once met him, and had heard many stories of his 
gallant deeds during the wars. It was not known 
positively whether this man was a relative of 
Colonel Roby or not. Once a fellow, more inquis- 
itive than polite, ventured to ask him. The result 


of the interview was never known; but certainly 
it was not satisfactory, and if any information were 
gained from the gloomy stranger, it was never im- 
parted. Mr. Roby was a devout Catholic. Some 
said that he was a widower, others that he had 
never been married, while still others hinted that 
he had been a polygamist, having a dozen wives 
in different parts of the world. 

In the year 1627, this mysterious man sailed 
with Lord Baltimore in a ship which carried twenty 
cannon as a protection against the French. A few 
friends and some priests accompanied them. After 
remaining a few months at Avalon, they returned 
to England, and the next spring, when Lord Balti- 
more sailed for New Foundland with his second 
wife and all his children, excepting those married, 
William Roby, who had earned the soubriquet of 
the "silent man," went with him. The winter 
which followed was so severe, that next spring 
Baltimore sent his children home and, with his 
wife, Roby and several friends, sailed to Virginia, 
arriving at Jamestown in October. When Balti- 
more appeared before Governor Harvey and his 
council and was asked what was his purpose in 
Virginia, he answered: 

"To plant and dwell." 

" Will you take the oath, which we have 
taken ? " asked the governor. 


"I cannot with a good conscience," was Balti- 
i) ore's answer. 

" Then you must leave on the first ship hence 
for England," Governor Harvey declared. 

A scene followed that was simply disgraceful. 
One of the Virginia cavaliers named Thomas Tin- 
dall called Lord Baltimore a liar and threatened to 
knock him down. The fellow was sent to the pil- 
lory for the insult. Cruel as was the order to leave 
the country, Lord Baltimore was forced to obey it. 
Permission was gained for him to leave his wife 
and relatives at Jamestown, until he could secure 
a locality to settle them in. In the care of Mr. 
William Koby, who had decided to wait at James- 
town, he left his wife until he should return. 
During his stay at Jamestown, Koby formed the 
acquaintance of Philip Stevens, a stout young 
colonist, for whom, in his cold way, he entertained 
an attachment. Though Philip talked quite freely 
of his own past life, Eoby was silent as to his. 
Occasionally he asked Philip a question. Those 
questions were asked at great intervals apart, and 
were couched in studied language which required 
full explanations. The questions usually were 
about some English family. Philip, though a 
Spaniard Iry birth, had been long enough in Eng- 
land to know something of its people; but the 
silent man's shrewdest questions failed to elicit the 


desired information. Mr. Roby still continued his 
search. Search, search, search. He had sought 
the earth over, and his task was not yet accom- 

In 1630, Lord Baltimore returned, bringing with 
him a patent from King Charles for a territory 
south of the James River, for the rigors of the cli- 
mate, the barrenness of the soil of Avalon, and the 
menaces of the French, had caused him to aban- 
don his domain in New Foundland. The Virginia 
Company made so much opposition to his new 
charter, that Baltimore was induced to surrender it 
and accept one for territory north and east of the Po- 
tomac, embracing the Chesapeake Bay, which he 
had previously explored. 

This change necessitated another return to Eng- 
land. Again he left his wife and a few of his 
friends in Virginia, and hastened back to confer 
with the king. Lord Baltimore wanted to call the 
newly chartered domain Crescendia; but, in defer- 
ence to the king, when the charter was drawn up, 
the space for the name was left blank that his maj- 
esty might fill it as he pleased. When Baltimore 
appeared before Charles to receive his signature to 
the document, the monarch asked: 

"What will you name the country?" 

"I have referred the matter to your majesty," 
answered Baltimore. 


'' Then let us name it for the queen. What do 
you think: of Mariana?" 

The expert courtier answered: 

" I would not like that name, your majesty, for 
it is the name of the Spanish historian who taught 
the dangerous heresy that the will of the people is 
higher than the law of tyrants. I do not care to 
perpetuate his name." 

The king, still disposed to compliment his queen, 
reflected a moment and said : 

"Let it be Terra Maria." (Mary Land.) So 
it was that in the charater the province was named 
Maryland, in honor of Queen Henrietta Mary. 
The charter was prepared; but before the great 
seal of England was affixed to it, Lord Baltimore 
suddenly died in London. His son Cecil, Lord 
Baltimore, falling heir to his estates and titles, a 
few months after received the charter, which bore 
the date June 20th, 1632. The territory covered 
by the patent extended along each side of the 
Chesapeake Bay, from the fortieth degree to the 
mouth of the Potomac and westward along the line 
of that river. 

The Maryland charter was probably drawn up 
by the first Lord Baltimore. It was evidently 
copied substantially from the one granted by 
Charles to his attorney-general, Sir Kobert Heath, 
for Carolinia, a territory south of the Koanoke 


River. No monarch nor monopolist had yet ex- 
tended such great democratic privileges as were 
given in the Maryland charter. The territory was 
declared "out of the plentitude of royal power; " 
the people were exempt from taxation by the crown, 
except by their own consent, and other important 
privileges were secured to them. It silently toler- 
ated 'all religious sects. While it directed the 
dedication and consecration of "churches, chapels, 
and places of worship," in accordance with the 
prescription of the ecclesiastical laws of England, 
the matter of state theology was left untouched and 
within the legislative powers of the colonists them- 
selves. This toleration was a wise provision. It 
promoted the growth of the colony when it was 
established, for those who were persecuted by the 
Puritans of New England and the Churchmen of 
Virginia found in Maryland a place of refuge and 
peace. The charter provided that the proprietary 
should have "free, full and absolute powers to 
enact all laws necessary for the common good; not, 
however, without the advice, consent and appro- 
bation of the freemen of the province or their rep- 
resentatives convoked in general assembly." This 
was the first time any provision had been made in 
an American patent for securing to the citizen a 
share in legislation. 

With this charter young Lord Baltimore set sail 


from England to colonize his domain, not so much 
as an asylum for his persecuted co-religionists as 
to secure pecuniary gain to himself. lie appointed 

Lis half-brother, Leonard Calvert, governor, and 
on the 22d of November, 1633, that kinsman with 
his brother, " with very near twenty other gentle- 
men of very good fashion and three hundred la- 
boring men," sailed from Cowes, in the Isle of 
Wight, in two ships, The Ark and The Dove. 
Some of the gentlemen and laboring men as well 
were Eoman Catholics; but by far the greater por- 
tion of the laboring men were Protestants, who 
took the oath of supremacy before leaving Eng- 
land. Two Jesuit priests, Fathers Andrew White 
and John Altham, accompanied the emigrants. 
Religious services were performed just as they were 
on the point of departure. A gentle east wind 
was blowing, and, "committing themselves to the 
protection of God especially, and His most Holy 
Mother and St. Ignatius and all the guardian angels 
of Maryland," they set sail. 

For some unknown reason, the colonists took 
the tedious southern route by way of the Canaries 
and West Indies. The perils of the Needles on 
the coast of the Isle of Wight were passed, when 
they were chased by a Turkish cruiser, then the 
dread of all Christian seamen. But they fell in 
with a large English merchantman, called The 


Dragon, which was well armed, and it drove away 
the Turkish pirate and convoyed them beyond the 
danger line. Two days later they were overtaken 
by a furious gale. The Dragon was forced to turn 
back, and the emigrant vessels went forward alone. 
With the approach of night the tempest increased. 
The Dove was the smaller and weaker of the two 
vessels, and great apprehensions were entertained 
for the vessel and its passengers. . They notified 
the officers of The Ark that in case of danger they 
would hang out a lantern at the masthead. That 
signal of distress appeared about midnight, and 
for a few minutes the light could be seen rocking 
and swaying with the motion of the waves; then 
it suddenly vanished. "All are lost!" thought 
the tenants of The Ark, and "they grieved sorely." 
They had no doubt that The Dove was at rest at 
the bottom of the sea, with all on board. 

For three terrible days the tempest swept the 
ocean, and then the storm culminated in a most 
terrific rain-storm and hurricane, which threatened 
the destruction of all in its path. It seemed as if 
" all the malicious spirits of the storm and all the 
evil genii of Maryland had come forth to battle " 
and sink the ship. Master, passengers and crew 
gave themselves up for lost, and well they might. 
Their mainsail was split from top to bottom, the 
rudder was unshipped, and the vessel was at the 


mercy of the wind and waves. In mortal dread, 
the passengers had recourse to the only comfort 
that never fails, prayer. Falling on their knees, 
they prayed, and the Roman Catholics uttered 
vows in honor of "the Blessed Virgin Mary and 
her Immaculate Conception, of St. Ignatius, the 
patron saint of Maryland, St. Michael, and all the 
guardian angels of the same country." Father 
White, in a letter to a friend, wrote of this trying 
event : 

" I had taken myself to prayer when the sea was 
raging its worst, and (may this be to the .glory of 
God) I had scarcely finished, when they observed 
that the storm was abating." The storm abated 
and for three months the voyagers had delightful 
weather, although nothing was seen of The Dove. 

After the tempest, The Ark steered for Bonavista, 
one of the Cape Verde islands, but altered her 
course and entered the harbor of the island of 
Barbadoes, on the eastern verge of the Antilles, 
where her people, all regarded as Roman Catholics, 
were coldly received and charged extravagant prices 
for the provisions they were compelled to purchase. 
While here, they learned that they had narrowly 
escaped a Spanish fleet lying at Bonavista, and 
also another peril in the port at which they had 
arrived. The slaves on the island, driven to des- 
peration by cruelty, had conspired to murder their 


masters, seize the first ship that should appear, and 
put to sea. The conspiracy had just been dis- 
covered and the ringleaders hung. Further joy 
awaited them, for they were scarcely well in port, 
when The Dove, after a six weeks' separation, re- 
turned to The Ark. In the terrible gale, finding 
she could not weather the storm, she had put back 
and taken refuge in the Scilly Isles, from whence 
she sailed as soon as the weather would permit in 
search of her consort. 

After a short sojourn at Barbadoes, the emi- 
grants left, passed several islands of the Antilles, 
near one of which they encountered canoes full of 
naked and painted cannibals, and late in February 
they sailed in between the capes of Virginia. 
They touched at Point Comfort and then went up 
toward Jamestown, where royal letters, borne by 
Calvert, secured for them a friendly reception from 
Governor Harvey. 

The reader will remember that some of the elder 
Lord Baltimore's people had been left in James- 
town, and among them was the man William Roby. 
Mysterious, silent and melancholy, he had been 
wandering about the colony from town to town, as 
if engaged in a search for some one. Whenever 
a new vessel came into port, he was the first at the 
quay, "scanning the faces of the passengers as if 
trying to discover some particular person; but in- 


variably, after he had seen all debark, he turned 
away with a sigh of disappointment. He had 
made his home with Philip Stevens while in Vir- 
ginia. Here the mysterious man received the 
kindest treatment, which in his way he appreciated. 
Although he had been called the silent man, he 
really was not silent, save as to his own past life. 
Of other people he frequently talked, though he 
said nothing of himself. 

One day he stood on the quay watching a ship- 
load of immigrants disembark, and Philip Stevens 
was near him noting the curious interest he mani- 
fested. When all had landed, he turned away, 
heaving his usual sigh and saying: 

"Forever doomed to disappointment." 

"Were you expecting some one?" Philip asked. 

Philip meant no offence by his question ; but the 
eyes of Mr. Roby flashed fire, and he glared at him 
much as a miser might at a thief who had caught 
him counting his gold. 

" I meant no offence, Mr. Roby," Philip hastened 
to explain. 

"Did you hear me say anything?" Roby 

"You said you were disappointed." 

"Did I say I expected any one?" 

"No; or I should not have asked you; but 
your look and manner did indicate it." 


"Think nothing about it; I expected no one," 
and, with a great effort to regain his self-posses- 
sion, he hurried away. 

"Marry!" quoth Philip, "but our friend is 

"He is wrong here," said Alexander Bradwaye, 
pointing to his forehead and shaking his snow-white 
locks. Philip, who had heard the remark of the 
old man, turned to him and answered: 

"No, he is mysterious, that is all." 

"Where did he come from?" asked Brad- 

" He came with the first Lord Baltimore, who 
died some months since." 

" Where was he before he joined Lord Balti- 

-"No one knows," Philip answered. "He is a 
man without a past." 

"A man without a past," repeated the old col- 
onist, removing his hat and passing his hand over 
his bald head. " Yea, verily, there may be some- 
thing in his past which he doth not care to have 
people know. A man without a past hath a dark 
past that he would conceal." 

"I know not what his motives are; yet he is a 
man of sound discretion, and good morals." 

"What religion?" 

"A Catholic." 


Bradwaye, who hated Catholics, muttered : 

"Marry! There is no discretion or good morals 
among papists." 

"Don't ''ay that, Bradwaye. My father is a 
Catholic and so were all my ancestors. Trace your 
own back a few generations and you will also find 
worthy Catholics among them." 
papists among them." 

"Zounds! what you say is true, friend Philip; 
yet it makes it none the less a crime to be a papist 
in this age of reason." 

Knowing the peculiarities of his old friend^ 
Philip Stevens did not seek to discuss the matter 
with him, but hastened away to find Mr. Roby and 
assure him that he had not intended to offend him. 
He did not find him, and that evening, when he 
failed to return to the house, he began to feel some 
uneasiness about him. He went to a Catholic 
priest, who had come with Lord Baltimore, and 
asked him if he had seen Mr. Roby. 

"I have not, my son; but I believe that he will 
come back. He hath a peculiar malady of seeking 
seclusion at times." 

Comforted by this assurance, Philip went home 
and gave him no more serious thought. Two or 
three days later Mr. Roby returned. There was 
no change in his manner. A few days after his 
return, he asked -Philip: 

"Have you any relatives besides your father?" 


' I suppose I have, though I know not to a cer- 

"A brother or a sister?" 

"A brother." 

"Where is he?" 

"He was at Leyden, Holland, with the Puritans; 
out I have since heard that he emigrated to New 

"New England," Mr. Roby repeated slowly. 
Then, in an absent-minded sort of way, he added: 
"I have .never been there yet. Is he a Puritan?" 

"Such probably was his training." 

"What is his name?" 


"Mathew Stevens?" 

"Mathew Stevens, or Mattheo Estevan; such is 
our name in Spanish." 

"Have you ever written to him?" 

" No. My father and I contemplated a visit to 
Plymouth in order to make search for him, when 
father met with an accident. The Indian war 
broke out, and we have not been able to make the 
voyage, though probably we shall do so next year." 

Though Mr. Roby seemed to take the keenest 
interest in the history of everybody else, he kept a 
strict silence as to himself, and when Calvert en- 
tered the James River to take the immigrants away 
to their territory, the good people of Jamestown 

MARYLAND. 30.') 

knew as little about him as when he first came to 
the colony. 

Nine days Calvert tarried at Jamestown and then 
sailed for the Chesapeake, entering the broad mouth 
of the Potomac Eiver. The emigrants were de- 
lighted with the great stream and the beautiful 
scenery along the shore, and gave it the name of 
St. Gregory, in honor of the canonized Pope of 
that name. 

"Never have I beheld a larger or more beautiful 
river," wrote Father White. " The Thames seems 
a mere rivulet in comparison with it. It is not dis- 
figured by swamps, but has firm land on each side. 
Fine groves of trees appear, not choked with briers, 
or bushes, or undergrowth, but growing at inter- 
vals, as if planted by man, so you can drive a four- 
horse carriage wherever you choose, through the 
midst of the trees. Just at the mouth of the river 
we saw the natives in arms. That night fires blazed 
throughout the whole country, and since they had 
never seen so large a ship, messengers were sent in 
all directions, who reported that a canoe like an 
island had come with as many men as there were 
trees in the woods." 

They sailed u.p the river to Heron Islands, and 
on Blackstone (which they called St. Clement's) 
they landed at a little past the middle of March. 
The air was balmy and sweet with opening spring 

Vol. 520 


flowers, and birds were filling the groves with their 
melodies. The shy natives one by one came to 
them, and the kindness of the English disarmed 
all their hostility. There, on the feast of the An- 
nunciation (March 25th), the priests, in full can- 
onical robes, performed religious services and ad- 
ministered the Lord's Supper for the first time in 
all that savage region. The whole company fol- 
lowed Calvert and the priests in procession, bearing 
a huge cross which they had fashioned from a tree, 
and planted the symbol of Christianity and civili- 
zation at a chosen spot. The Eoman Catholic 
members on bended knees recited the " Litanies of 
the Sacred Cross," according to the Italian ritual. 

In the forest shadows, wondering spectators of 
the strange scene, stood groups of savage men, 
women and children, clad in scanty and picturesque 
garments, with their emperor and his queen. He 
was at the head of a tribe called the r iscataways, 
and ruled over several smaller chit-is. Calvert 
paid a visit to this dusky emperor to make a treaty 
of friendship and secure his influence over sur- 
rounding tribes in favor of the colonists. In The 
Dove and another pinnace which they had brought 
from Jamestown, the governor of -the colony, with 
Father Altham and a part of the immigrants, sailed 
up the river, leaving The Ark at anchor. Indians 
came from the woods to peep -at them and fled in 


{See page soa) 
After an original drawing by Freeland A. Carter. 


flo' birds were filling the groves with their 

The shy natives one by one came to 

,nd the kindness of 1 >rmed 

hostility. There, on the feast of the An- 

tion (March 25th), the priests, in full can- 

, performed religious services and ad- 

upper for the first time in 

Many fol- 

it and ~tl< n, bearing 

- whk-h they had fashioned from a tree, 

planted the symbol of Christianity and civili- 

sation at a chosen spot. r l Catholic 

Sacred Cross?* Besing to the Italian ritual. 

.wi-wO .k b feBJw\ttO wtKwotb iDJWQVtfl n> t^Xfe. 

In the forest shadows, wondering spectators of 
strange scene, stood groups of men,- 

on and children, clad in scanty and picturesque 
:ients, with their emperor and his queen. He 

ne head of a tribe called the Hscatav 

ruled over several smaller Calvert 

- isit to this dusky em; ;;iake a treaty 

riendship and secure his influence over sur- 

.; tribes in favor of the colonists. In The 

1 another pinnace which they had brought 

mestown, the governor of -the colony, with 

urn and a part of the immigrants, sailed 

ving The Ark at anchor. Indians 

- oods to peep at them and fled in 


alarm. At a village near Mount Vernon, ruled 
ov r er by a youthful chief, they landed. The fears 
of the Indians were soon overcome, and Father 
Altham, through an interpreter they had brought 
from Jamestown for the purpose, explained that 
the object of their coming was to teach the Indians 
to lead better lives, and to live with them as 
brothers. The young sachem's uncle, who ruled 
as regent, welcomed them saying: 

"We will use one table. My people shall hunt 
for my pale-face brothers, and all things shall be 
in common between us." 

Pleased with this peaceful conquest, the colonists 
went on to Piscataway, where five hundred war- 
riors were drawn up to dispute their landing; but 
the Indians were pacified, and readily gave them 
permission to settle anywhere within the empire 
near or distant. Calvert thought it better- to form 
their settlement near the mouth of the Potomac. 

Calvert next explored the Wicomico River, which 
emptied into another (which they called the St. 
George) twelve miles upward, and anchored at an 
Indian village. Here the sachem gave the gov- 
ernor his mat to sleep on. Pleased with the situa- 
tion, the soil and forest growth, he determined to 
plant his first settlement there and make Wicomico 
the capital. Although Calvert had a delegated 
power to take possession of the country by force, 


he preferred to procure it by treaty and purchase, 
so for some English cloth, axes, hoes, rakes, 
knives and trinkets of little value for the women, 
he purchased thirty miles of territory including the 
village and named the domain Augusta Carolinia. 

On the 27th of March, 1634, Calvert took for- 
mal possession of the territory. The vessels came 
from St. Clement's with the remainder of the im- 
migrants, and the cannon fired a salute at the ter- 
mination of their weary wanderings. They erected 
a fort, laid out the town of St. Mary's and began 
to build. The Indians assisted them as well as 
they could. 

Governor Harvey of Virginia shortly afterward 
paid them a visit and was received aboard The 
Ark. The king of Patuxent was invited to their 
interview and, while banqueting with the officers, 

"I love the English so well, that, if they went 
about to kill me, and I had so much breath as to 
speak, I would command the people not to avenge 
my death; for I know they would do no such 
thing, except it were through mine own fault." 

These settlers were exempt from the distresses 
which had befallen the earlier immigrants in other 
colonies. The surrounding native inhabitants 
were friendly; they had a genial climate; general 
good health prevailed; they had abundance of 


land, and the soil yielded bountifully with moder- 
ate tillage. They were vested with peculiar privi- 
leges; were not hampered by ecclesiastical restric- 
tions, and a year after they had established the 
capital at St. Mary's, a legislative assembly, com- 
posed of the whole people, a purely democratic 
legislature, convened there. As their numbers 
increased by immigration, this method of legisla- 
tion was found inconvenient, and, in 1639, a rep- 
resentative government was established, the people 
being allowed to send as many representatives as 
they saw fit. Thus was commenced the common- 
wealth of Maryland. 

Mr. William Roby, the man " without a past," 
located at St. Mary's. He became an Indian 
trader, and soon accumulated a fortune in furs. 
He penetrated the forests to the most distant 
towns and entered the Dutch settlements, still 
preserving his taciturn manner, and the habit of 
searching; as if he expected to find some person 
whom he had not seen for years. 

At New Amsterdam he formed the acquaintance 
of Hans Yan Brunt. He grew to like the honest, 
kind-hearted Dutchman. In conversation with 
him one day, he told him of the Philip Stevens at 
Jamestown. Hans, in turn, told of Mathew Ste- 
vens at Plymouth, and thus a conversation sprang 
up between them, at the conclusion of which they 


decided that the two must be the long-separated 
brothers. After the conversation was over, Mr. 
Roby went to the public house, and Hans then re- 
membered that there was a man in the village 
named Billington, who had just come from Plym- 
outh. He also remembered that he had met Bil- 
lington once in Plymouth, and that he had asked 
some strange questions concerning Mr. Roby. He 
was not much acquainted with Billington, and was 
not favorably impressed with the man; but as he 
was so recently from Plymouth and no doubt knew 
all about Mathew Stevens, he determined to have 
him meet Mr. Roby. He found him and told him 
the strange story of Philip Stevens in Virginia. 

" He must be Mathew's brother," said Billing- 
ton. " There can be no doubt of it. I would like 
to see him." 

Hans volunteered to show him to the stranger, 
whose name he had not as yet spoken. They 
walked down the street of the little Dutch hamlet, 
until they came in sight of the stranger, sitting in 
a large arm-chair. He was lost in thought, with 
his eyes on the ground and did not look up. Bil- 
lington caught a glimpse of his face and exclaim- 
ing, " It is Roby! " beat a retreat and was never 
again seen in New Amsterdam. Billington hast- 
ened back to New Plymouth, which colony he 
reached as narrated in the preceding chapter. 



All thoughts, all passions, all delights, 
Whatever stirs this mortal frame, 

All are but ministers of love, 
And feed his sacred flame. 


NEXT morning, after his strange interview with 
Billington, Mathew Stevens was awakened from a 
peaceful slumber, by some one rapping at the door 
of his room. 

"Who is there?" he asked, starting up in bed. 

"It is I," Mrs. Brewster answered. "Alice 
White wants to see you immediately." 

Had he been informed that the Angel Gabriel 
was waiting, Mathew would not have been more 
dumfounded. With a vague feeling that some- 
thing had gone amiss, he hurriedly dressed and 
hastened to the sitting-room, where he found the 
girl, her face pale as death and her eyes red with 

"Alice, what has happened?" he asked. 

"She is gone!" was the answer. 


"Gone! who has gone?" 


"Dead!" he cried, filled with horror. 

"No, no; she has left. home," and for further 
explanations she handed him a slip of paper, 

"I found that pinned to my pillow." 

He took the paper and read: 


You insist on knowing the secret, and I have answered 
that you shall. I am gone on a journey into the wilder- 
ness, and when I return, I shall, I hope, be able to make 
the revelation less heavy than it would otherwise have 
been. Abide in the faith of God, and should your mother 
perish, r'- never return, believe that she loved you, and 
that she was never knowingly guilty of sin. May God 
bless you and always have you in His keeping ; this is my 


Mathew stared at the strange missive as if it had 
been dropped from the heavens. He was bewil- 
dered, his head swam, arid he clutched the table 
for support. 

"We did it!" was the thought which crashed 
like a bomb through his brain. " We did it! Our 
persistence in knowing the mystery has driven her 
mad." But with all the strength of his wonderful 
will, he controlled his emotions and, in a voice of 
forced calmness asked: 


"Wlien did this happen?" 

"Last night." 

"At what hour?" 

" I know not. While I was buried in slumber, 
she wrote this and stole away from the house." 

"It was early in the night." Mathew began to 
think and plan. He sat down and for a moment 
held his head between his hands. Mrs. Brewster, 
realizing that it was a matter that must be settled 
by Mathew and Alice, considerately left the room. 
After a short silence he asked : 

" Alice, did your mother see Billington yester- 

"She did." 

"Do you know what words passed between 

She recounted what she had heard, and how she 
had urged her mother to explain the meaning of 
those mysterious sentences, "I have seen him!" 
and "He lives!" The mother had utterly refused 
to make any explanation whatever, and Alice ex- 
pressed it as her belief that it was her persistence 
that drove her from the house to the wilderness. 

Then Mathew began to reason that Billington's 
visit had something to do with the nocturnal jour- 
ney of Sarah White. If he had been the cause of 
her going away, he knew whither she had gone, 
and if he knew, he should tell. He asked Alice 


to remain at the house, while he went to make 
some inquiries. 

"Will you help me to find her?" she asked. 

"Yes," he answered. 

"Though you go all over the world?" 

"I will find your mother, Alice, or devote the 
remainder of my life to the search." 

"I greatly fear that we are indirectly the cause 
of her flight. I told her she must confide the se- 
cret to me, and then she fell on her knees and 
begged me, with tears streaming from her eyes, to 
spare her; but I was determined. You said we 
must know the secret, and and I fear it was 
our determination that drove her mad. Why else 
should she make a journey to the wilderness?" 

"Don't upbraid yourself, Alice; }*our mother 
shall be found," he firmly declared. "Wait!" 

Then Mathew left the house. At the door he 
paused to whisper to Mrs. Brewster: 

"She is weak, faint, and in great distress. In- 
sist that she breakfast while I am gone." 

With that parting injunction, he was gone. 
Mathew found Billington in his miserable cabin. 
He had passed a lonely night in his home, had 
just risen, and was swinging some pots over the 
fire to cook his breakfast. 

"Ho! Mathew. Why this early visit?" he 


"Did you see Sarah White during the night?" 
he asked. 

"In truth I did." 


"She rapped at my door." 

"At what hour?" 

"The middle of the night." 

"Where hath she gone?" 

"To New Amsterdam." 

"But no vessel sailed!" 

" One can make the journey by land if they pro- 
cure natives to ferry them across the streams." 

"She went by land?" 


Mathew asked no more, but hastened back to 
Alice. He told her what he had learned from Bil- 
lington, and said: 

"I shall set out at once to search for her, and I 
will never cease in my endeavors until I have 
found her." 

"I will go with you," she declared. 

"No, no; the journey will be too much for you." 

"I could not abide here, with the realization 
that my poor mother is in the wilderness, sur- 
rounded by the perils of an unknown forest. I 
must go." 

No amount of persuasion could shake her de- 
termination, and at last he consented. John 


Alden, Samuel Warren, and Stephen Hopkins, 
three brave Pilgrims who had served under Mathew 
during the Pequod war, volunteered to accompany 
him and share his dangers and toils. Added to 
these were two Indian guides, who were fast friends 
of the young Puritan, and who agreed to lead 
them safely through the wilderness. 

"Shall we go by water?" Alden asked. 

"No, no," Alice pleaded. "Mother went by 
land, let us follow her footsteps." 

" By taking a vessel we can reach New Amster- 
dam long before she does." 

"Mother will never reach New Amsterdam," 
she answered. "She is too weak; she will faint 
by the way." 

Her reasoning was good, for all knew that the 
vast distance she would have to traverse through 
the wilderness would be beyond her endurance. 
The party started, and Alice trudged along by the 
side of Mathew in silence. Her tears were dried 
and all her energies were bent to finding the lost 
one. They presented a strange sight, those five 
wanderers, as they trudged through the woods. 
Each man carried a bundle on his back, and some 
provisions in a bag. In addition they had their 
muskets and swords. Each had one and some two 
pistols in his belt. Their arms, armor and ac- 
coutrements so encumbered them that they could 


not make any great speed. They did not travel 
far in a day. Alice, in her anxiety, would have 
over-exerted herself, had she not been restrained 
by those with cooler heads and better judgment. 

On through the wild wood the little band 
pressed; over rocky hills, down descending slopes, 
where purling streams went gently and merrily on 
their way to their eternity the ocean; then again 
climbing mountain sides, listening to the wild roar 
of the cataract as it thundered downward amid 
foam and spray, forming delightful rainbows in the 
air; through secluded dells, delightful plains to 
wild rocky summits, they pressed on. At times 
the tall trees threw their giant branches over them, 
forming a covering from the friendly sky. Then 
they crossed a plain where they were compelled to 
part the tall grass with their hands to force a pas- 
sage through it. 

When night came, they built their camp-fire be- 
neath a hoary-headed oak, and Mathew, with the 
blankets, made a bed and canopy-like tent for 
Alice. As the Pilgrims and their guides sat about 
their tent in silence, they heard the stealthy tread 
of advancing feet. Immediately every man seized 
his gun and prepared for an assault; but it proved 
to be two wandering Indians who, attracted by 
their fire, came to see who was in camp. 

At Mathew 's request, their guides interrogated 


them about the lost woman. They answered that 
they had seen a white woman going southward. 
She spoke English only, and they could not un- 
derstand her; but they described her as being 
wild-eyed and haggard. They gave her some 
food, and endeavored to detain her at their village 
a few miles away; but she would not stay. 

Early next morning the wanderers were again 
on their journey. They came to a stream of con- 
siderable width, and wandering along its rocky 
shore, found an Indian hamlet of five houses, in- 
habited by dusky fishermen. They had ferried a 
white woman across the stream the day before. 
There could be no doubt that this woman was Mrs. 
Sarah White, whom the Indians described as sick 
and faint, although she refused the hospitality they 
offered her. She seemed in such a hurry to go on 
that the savages thought she was pursued by an 

"Poor mother!" sighed Alice. "I have caused 
her this misery!" 

Mathew, who was at her side, responded : 

" Alice, why need we have cared for the secret 
which your mother guarded so jealously?" 

"It was blighting my life." 

" Yet I would have wedded you regardless of 
the skeleton in the closet." 

"Could I be a nameless bride?" she asked. 


" Is not my life clouded with mystery as well as 
yours? Do I know beyond rumor and conjecture 
who I am?" 

"Mathew, it was for you." 

" You need not have caused yourself and your 
mother all this misery for me," he answered. 

" Yet you first set me a-thinking. You first 
asked me who my father was!" 

"Alas, I did; but it was that devil in human 
form, Billington, who prompted me to ask you, 
and I would that I had perished before I followed 
the promptings of suspicions, which he roused in 
my heart. He rejoices only in the misery of 
others, and his cunning brain is always busy plan- 
ning for the woe of his fellow men!" 

With an effort to shake off the feeling of op- 
pression which was weighing on his breast, Mathew 
added, "Alice, we can yet be happy. Consent 
to be my wife, regardless of secrets or mystery, 
and we will never ask your mother to reveal it." 

She was silent. 

They were passing through a low, narrow val- 
ley with a high cliff on either side. The trees 
grew dense in the valley, and a path led through 
them. Their companions were a short distance 
ahead of them, and could not hear the low, earnest 
pleading of the lover. He tried to catch her eye 
as they walked along the path; but she kept her 


face averted, and the hand which he held trembled 
in his own. Encouraged, he continued: 

"Alice, why prolong this misery? "Why longer 
delay? What care we for the past? We live for 
the future. Here in this old wood, with God for 
our witness, promise me you will reward my wait- 
ing by becoming my wife, as soon as we shall re- 
turn to Plymouth ' with your mother. Consent, 
Alice; say yes, and let this sad march terminate 
in a delightful walk through God's garden." 

A moment of trembling silence, and then, 


" Alice, you have made this dark day glorious. 
I am happy." 

" How dare we talk of happiness with mother in 
the wilderness, exposed to ten thousand perils?" 

"We will find her," Mathew answered cheer- 

"Can we?" 

"We can and will." 

" You encourage me. Could I believe that we 
should really find her, I would feel that this was 
in reality a pleasure journey." 

With assuring words and a hopeful manner, he 
sought to encourage her drooping spirits. They 
hastened on and overtook their companions, who 
had halted to consult with an Indian hunter. 

SEEKING ?& L68T. 321 

He had met the fugitive over the range of rocky 
hills, and had builded her a fire, broiled some 
venison, for her, and given her his robe of furs to 
lie on. He could speak no English, and she no 
Indian ; but from the way she came and the course 
she went, it was evident that she was going to 
Providence, Rhode Island. 

"I understand her plans now," Mathew re- 
marked, on learning the account of the Indian. 
" She is going to Providence to secure the aid of 
her friend Roger Williams to take her to New 

From the trail which the Indian guides had fol- 
lowed with unerring accuracy, it was quite appa- 
rent to all that Providence was the destination de- 
signed by the fugitive, and thither the seekers 
bent their steps. 

It was evening when the little band of tired 
pursuers crossed the river and entered the town. 
They learned that the fugitive had arrived but 
three or four hours before them, and was resting 
at the house of Mr. Roger Williams. 

Only Alice and Mathew were admitted to her 
presence. Glaring at them with her great, wild 
eyes, she asked: 

"Why did you come? Why did you not let 
me complete my journey, and the blow would have 
fallen less heavily." 

Vol. 521 


"Mother! mother!" interrupted Alice, with 
choking sobs, " that blow which you have so much 
dreaded has all along been a creature of your 
fancy. Had you shared the burden with me which 
was crushing out your life, it would have been 
lighter for both of us." 

" I did not want your scorn ; I could not endure 
.your contempt, Alice, it would have killed me." 

" Mother, I can smile at the fears which almost 
craze your poor brain. Have no fear of my scorn. 
I do not want your secret. I will never ask you 
again. Mathew has promised to make me his 
wife, and we will bury the hideous past forever." 

Sarah White turned her eyes upon her daughter's 
lover with an inquiring gaze, and Mathew Stevens, 
interpreting the look, answered with a smile: 

" You may either disclose or keep forever veiled 
that secret, just as you choose. I have asked the 
hand of Alice in marriage, she has consented with- 
out any reservation whatever, and on our return 
we will marry, despite the past." 

A glad light beamed in the woman's eyes, and 
she feebly gasped : 

"Sit down." 

One of the articles of furniture in that room 
was a long, hard bench, which, in the early days 
of the English settlers, formed an indispensable 
article for housekeeping. Mathew drew it up by 


the side of the feeble woman, and both he and 
Alice seated themselves thereon. Sarah White, 
in a slow, somewhat feeble, but at the same time 
firm voice, began: 

" On the night I left home, I promised Alice 
that when next I saw her I would unfold this 
mystery, and I shall make good my promise. I 
had hoped before I did so, however, to meet the 
author of our wrongs face to face and make him 
take his share of the blame; but I cannot. I am 
too weak too weak. Listen, and I will tell you 
the story of my life." 

Then she had to wait until she recovered her- 
self, for her journey had fatigued her, and she was 
very weak. Mrs. Williams brought her some old 
English beer, which she sipped, grew stronger, and, 
after a few moments spent in gathering up her 
resolution and the fragments of her story, she 
began : 

" In the long ago, when I was a blushing girl in 
old England, my father was a small tradesman in 
our village. I was his only daughter, though he 
had two sons, William and John. John died 
early, and William, as you know, was a passenger 
on The Mayflower, and among the first to perish in 
New England. I had many lovers, and among 
them was Francis Billington, the son of a low-bred 
fellow, who had been convicted at the assizes for 


poaching. Though I never in all raj life favored 
him in any way, Billington was persistent and 
vindictive in his suit. I declined his hand ; but 
it did not end his obnoxious attentions. 

" When I was seventeen years of age, there came 
to our village a company of soldiers. Among them 
was a gallant young officer, whose fair young face 
was like the morning, and when he smiled on me, 
I was almost wild with delight. From the first 
moment I saw him, I loved him, and I believe he 
returned my affection. How we met first and 
became acquainted, I will not take up the time 
now to tell you, but we did, unbeknown to my 
parents, become acquainted and met frequently. 
The tale of love which he poured so earnestly into 
rny ear was enough to turn the head of any poor 
girl. Of course I believed him. I was young 
and inexperienced, and so delightful was it to be 
loved that I would not take my parents into my 
confidence and ask their advice, for fear they 
would disapprove of our meetings and thus deprive 
me of the pleasure of meeting the man I adored; 
but my father by some means (perhaps it was Bil- 
lington who told him) learned of our meetings and 
forbade me seeing the soldier. He believed all 
soldiers a class of wandering vagabonds, and this 
one especially was distasteful on account of his 
being a Catholic. My father, being a Puritan, 


hated the Catholics, and under no circumstances 
would have consented to allow his daughter to 
marry a papist. I heeded not his warning, but 
obeyed the foolish impulses of my own inexperi- 
enced heart. 

"We met more frequently than before, and, 
knowing my father's opposition to him, he began 
to urge me to marry him secretly. I resisted at 
first, but after long importuning yielded, and we 
went to a lonely chapel one night, just he and I, 
and were met by a man in priestly robes. The 
ceremony was performed according to the Catholic 
Church, and I believed myself his wife. We 
thought that we three were alone; but as we left 
the chapel I espied Francis Billington, who had 
been a witness to the whole ceremony. My hus- 
band, angry at the appearance of the interloper, 
drew his sword and sought to slay him; but Bil- 
lington made his escape, swearing that he would be 
avenged. At the time I supposed that he would 
go immediately and tell my father; but he did not. 
His vengeance was of a deeper and keener sort. 
Weeks and months went by, and we passed our 
honeymoon in secret. 

" One terrible day news came that the soldiers 
had been suddenly ordered away to fight the In- 
vincible Armada which Spain was sending to de- 
stroy England. He went away without giving me 


a word of warning, or even sending me a message. 
For a long time after that I was almost at death's 
door. Alice was born, and Billington told my 
father how I had been betrayed, for the man who 
had performed the ceremony was not a priest, but 
one of the soldier's comrades who assumed the role 
of priest to deceive me. At first I did not, I 
could not believe it; but as months went by and I 
received no letter or message from the man I be- 
lieved my husband, I was forced to the shameful 
conclusion that I had been deceived. Over- 
whelmed with grief, I left my home in the north 
of England and went to live with my brother 
at Plymouth. Shortly after, my parents died. 
At Plymouth, Billington joined us, though why, 
I know not, unless to torture me by his presence. 
From Plymouth we removed to the Downs. I 
need not tell you how all these years Billington 
followed and haunted me. He married, and had 
a son; but he never ceased to pursue me with 
the hate of a devil. When his wife died, he 
proposed marriage; but I spurned the wretch. 
We went from the Downs to Lincoln, thence to 
London, and, as you know, came to America. 
There you have it all now. I have long kept the 
secret for the sake of Alice, and partially for the 
sake of her father, whom I still love. I cannot 
bear to hear him upbraided by those who are my 


friends. I was young, foolish, vain but say no 
harm of him." 

" Perhaps he was slain ?" suggested Mathew. 

"I thought so for a long time; but he was not, 
He still lives." 

"How know you he lives?" 

"Billington saw him." 

"At New Amsterdam?" 


"And thither you were going?" 

"I was; but I am too feeble to make the jour- 
ney. Take me home, and let me die." 

Alice turned her tear-dimmed eyes on Mathew, 
and, in a voice trembling with emotion, said: 

" You know it all now; do you still insist?" 

"I do, Alice. Will you be my wife?" 

" I will !" With a glad cry he clasped her in his 
arms and imprinted on her lips a kiss. 



See, heaven its sparkling portals wide display, 
And break upon thee in the flood of day. 
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn, 
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn ; 
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays, 
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze. 


JUST as the beams of the rising sun danced over 
the deep, bringing into bold relief gray old Ply- 
mouth Eock, and as the soft refulgent light perme- 
ated the deeper shades of the gloomy old forest 
which formed the background of the picture, a 
small bark from Providence entered the harbor. 
It was not an unusual thing for vessels from other 
colonies to visit New Plymouth for purposes of 
trade or friendly greetings; yet these visits were 
not so common that they did not create a little flut- 
ter of excitement every time a white sail was seen 
gleaming on the ocean. 

A group of people gathered quickly on the shore 
and began to conjecture as to the new-comers and 


the object of their visit. A wreath of white smoke 
suddenly rose from the forecastle of the pinnace, 
and the report of a gun rang out over the bay. 
The cannon in the fort answered the salute, and 
as the small craft drew nearer the features of Ma- 
th ew Stevens and John Alden could be made out. 

Wild shouts of joy rose on the air, and every- 
body was asking: 

"Have they found the missing woman?" 

The craft came slowly in, and, as Mathew leaped 
ashore, Governor Bradford was first to seize his 
hand and ask: 

" Have you found her?" 

" We have. She is in the pinnace." 

Sarah White, so weak and feeble that she 
could scarcely stand, tottered ashore, leaning on 
the arm of her daughter. The solemn Pilgrims 
received her with a welcome that was rather bois- 
terous for people of their sedate habits. 

"Where will you go?" Governor Bradford 
asked the woman. 

"To my home," she answered. 

Mathew conducted her to her home on the hill. 

"Come to me as soon as you can, "said the gov- 
ernor to Captain Stevens, as he was going away 
with Alice and her mother. Mathew promised to 
do so, wondering all the while what business the 
governor could have with him. When the little 


cabin on the hill was reached, Alice's mother was 
laid on her bed. Her eyes were sunken and her 
pale cheeks had assumed a deathly hue. 

"Will you be afraid to stay here?" he asked. 

"Whom should I fear?" 


" He is harmless now. The secret which was his 
weapon is no longer his." 

Mathew left, promising to return soon, and 
hastened to the house of the governor. Governor 
Bradford was waiting for him at the gate. 

"You wish to see me?" Mathew asked. 

" Yes, some men from New Amsterdam are here, 
and want to have a talk with you," returned the 

"It is Hans Van Brunt," cried Mathew. 

"He is one." 

" And the other?" 

"Is an Englishman, accompanied by a priest." 

"A Roman Catholic priest?" 

"Yes, Father Altham." 

"Why should a priest venture here?" 

"Their business seems to be with you. The 
priest will do us no harm, seeing that he has no 
designs to proselyte." 

Mathew Stevens was completely dumfounded 
with amazement. Turning to the governor he 


" Are not these people Spaniards instead of Eng- 

"No; all the Hollander are Englishmen." 

"Is one named Stevens?" 

"No, his name is Koby." 

While they were still discussing the strangers, 
Hans Van Brunt came from the house, and, seeing 
his friend, hurried toward him in his frank, honest 
way, declaring: 

"A sight of you does one good. We do grow 
older, friend Mathew; but time hath dealt more 
gently with me than you. I see that your hair is 
flecked with gray, and there are wrinkles about 
your eyes; but they seem more of care than age." 

The rubicund face of the Dutchman showed no 
evidences of crow's feet, and one might search a 
long time before a white hair could be discovered 
among his locks. Mathew greeted his friend cor- 
diallv, and as they seated themselves on the large 
bench at the side' of the door, asked: 

"Hans, whom did you bring with you?" 

"Two Englishmen," Hans answered. "Mr. 
William Roby, and a priest called Father Altham." 

"How dare a Catholic priest come here? The 
Pilgrims will not permit him to remain. They 
will banish him from the colony." 

" He will not remain," Hans answered carelessly. 
" Once nis business is transacted, he will go away." 


"Is his business with me?" 

"No; I know not with whom his business is; 
but I think it is not with you." 

Mathew Stevens had been led to believe by 
Governor Bradford that the business of these men 
was with him; but Hans was of the opinion that, 
while their business was not exactly with him, it 
was through him that it was to be transacted. He 
sat staring at his Dutch friend in hopeless bewil- 
derment. Hans resumed: 

" I saw this man Eoby when he first came to 
New Amsterdam. He was a tall, thin man and 
looked as if he had worn himself to a shadow. I 
told Governor Yan Twiller that he was no ordinary 
man, and Van Twiller he smoked his pipe and 
said nothing, just as he always does when he 
wants to be wise. Everybody in New Netherland 
is making sport of the governor now. He is 
wisest when he says nothing;" but he came; he 
bought shiploads of furs and made a large fortune 
from the sale of them." 

Mathew at this point of the Dutchman's narrative 
was lost, and asked: 

"Who came and got rich in furs? Van Twil- 

"No; the Englishman Roby." 

After all it seemed as if this mysterious visit 
were going to take a financial turn. Mathew did 

bAY DAWNS. 333 

not interpose any more questions, although Hans, 
in his careless manner, mixed his pronouns and 
antecedents in a way liable to confuse the listener. 

"He was a queer man," Hans resumed, "just 
such a man as one would stop on the street to gaze 
at. He was a Catholic, too, for he wore a cross 
about his neck ; but what cared I for his being a 
Catholic? One religion is as good as another if one 
be honest and earnest. Do we not all worship the 
same God? Then why object to others worship- 
ping him as they choose? He came, and though he 
said nothing about himself, he asked me all about 
myself, and everybody else I had ever known. He 
asked about the Pilgrims and about you. He said 
you had a brother and a father in Virginia." 

At this point Mathew was quite sure he saw 
through it all. These men must be messengers 
from his brother and father in Virginia, who in 
some way had learned that he was in Plymouth. 

" My father and brother sent him and the priest?" 
he cried. 

"No," answered the Dutchman, lighting his 
pipe, and smoking with provoking slowness. 
"The men don't come to see you. Their busi- 
ness is with another; but it is thought best that 
the matter be reached through you." 

"Well, proceed," said Mathew, growing impa- 


"One day lie was at New Amsterdam." 

"Who? the priest?" 

"No, the man Eoby." 

"Well, what did he do when he was at New 

"The man calling himself Billington was in 
New Amsterdam also," Hans went on in his ram- 
bling way, occasionally pausing in his disjointed 
narrative to smoke. "I did not know why he 
came, nor did any other; but he did not look 
honest. I fell in conversation with him and he 
told me he was from New Plymouth, and I then 
asked him about my old friend, for I remem- 
bered having seen him once when I was here. He 
said he knew you; then I told him of Roby, who 
had told me of your brother and father in Vir- 
ginia. He then wanted to see the stranger, and I 
took him to the public house where Roby was, and 
no sooner did he get a sight of him, than he turned 
away and ran as if he had seen a spook, and I never 
saw him more in New Amsterdam." 

Hans paused and smoked his pipe a long time, 
while Mathew Stevens, with his mind more mud- 
dled than ever, asked himself what the fellow was 
driving at. After Hans had drawn two dozen 
deep draughts from his pipe, without seeming to 
show any inclination to proceed, Mathew re- 
marked : 


" Hans, the business of these men certainly must 
concern my father and brother." 

"No," Hans answered, and smoked his pipe in 

"What is their business?" Mathew asked, be- 
coming impatient. 

Hans was in no hurry to answer and, with that 
coolness characteristic of the careful Hollander, 
went on slowly: 

" From the way he ran off, I thought Billington 
was afraid of him." 

"Was he?" 

"He was. I asked Mr. Koby about him." 

"About Billington?" 

" Yes, and " 

"Did he know him?" asked Mathew, beginning 
to see a new interest in the story of the Dutch- 

" He turned whiter than I ever saw a sail on the 
ocean, at mention of his name, and trembled from 
head to foot. I never saw a man in such a rage," 
continued Hans, with his provoking slowness. 
"He was so angry that I believe he could have 
killed somebody. I knew then that he hated Bil- 
lington, so I began to question him; but he told 
me nothing," and Hans again paused in his narra- 
tive to puff at his pipe in silence. Mathew, whose 
patience was almost worn threadbare, urged him 


to go on, when Hans, casting his eyes toward the 
door, said: 

"He comes now." 

Mathew turned his eyes in the direction of the 
door and saw a tall, spare gentleman, who with his 
cloak and steeple-crowned hat looked like a Pilgrim. 
His beard was close-cropped, but pointed at the 
chin. His face was grave, and his pale blue eyes 
had a restless, eager look. When he spoke, there 
was a nervous twitching about the corners of his 
mouth, which seemed to indicate that he was suf- 
fering mentally. He paused a moment at the door, 
and then, seeing Hans and Mathew, came directly 
toward them. The Dutchman, still clinging to his 
beloved pipe, told Mr. Eoby that this man was 
"Stevens whom he wished to see." 

The mysterious stranger grasped the hand of 
Mathew for a moment in silence; then both seated 
themselves on the bench. Mathew, still bewil- 
dered, was about to ask what the man's business 
was, when the stranger, in his peculiar interro- 
gating way, began : 

" You are Mathew Stevens, the Spaniard from 


"You were at Leyden?" 


"How long have you known Sarah White?" 


asked the man, with an increasing nervous twitch- 
ing about the corners of his mouth. Mathew saw 
that, although the man was outwardly calm, a ter- 
rible conflict raged in his breast. He answered his 
question at once, stating when, where, and how he 
had first met Alice's mother. 

"She has a daughter, I am told?" the stranger 
said, clasping his hands. 

"She has," answered Mathew. "A daughter 
who is in very truth an angel. There never was a 
purer being," and Mathew went on to describe 
Alice, with all the fervent enthusiasm of a lover. 
When he had finished, he observed that the 
stranger was wringing his hands, his chin was quiv- 
ering and the tears were rolling down his cheeks. 

"My God!" he groaned. "My God forgive 

Light began to dawn on his mind. Like a flash 
he saw it all, and, seizing Roby by the shoulder, 
he cried: 

" You you are her father?" 


" You are he who deceived Sarah White into a 
pretended marriage." 

"No, no; as God and the Holy Father will bear 
witness, I deceived her not." 

"What mean you?" 

"She is my wife, my lawful wife. I brought 

Vol. 522 


the priest with me who performed the ceremony 
that he might bear testimony to the fact that the 
marriage was lawful. She is now my wife." 

Had the Spaniard been struck a blow in the face 
he could not have been more staggered. Starting 
back, he glared at Eoby for a moment, while the 
fires of fury kindled in his eyes. In the breast of 
the hot-blooded young Spaniard, were all the 
fiercest passions ready to be ignited by the smallest 
spark. And, in the lover's indignation, sparks 
were not wanting. 

"You dare to tell me this?" he cried, his voice 
choked with passion. " You dare to tell me that 
you wed the mother of Alice and deserted her? 
If you had not the heart of a devil, you. could not 
boast of an act so cowardly." His voice was 
pitched high; his words came rapidly, and he 
poured forth the vials of his wrath upon the head 
of Mr. Roby, who was much too agitated to defend 
himself and gazed at him in mute appeal. It was 
not until Mathew had exhausted his vocabulary 
and his breath, that he ceased. Taking advantage 
of the temporary pause, Mr. Roby sprang quickly 
to his feet and said: 

"You do me a great wrong; wait until you hear 

"I have heard quite enough to judge of you." 

"If Sarah White told you anything of me, she 



will bear me out in my story that my regiment was 
ordered away to fight the Invincible Armada, and 
that I went thence to Flanders." 


"She has told me all; but why did you not 

"A soldier cannot always go whither he would; 
besides I was sorely wounded and sick almost unto 
death. When I recovered I was sent to Flanders, 
and as soon as was possible I did return to England 
to find my wife; but she was gone. I have 
searched for her ever since, and never, until in 
casual conversation with your friend Hans Van 
Brunt, had I the least intimation where she was, 
or that she even lived." 

There were truth and honesty in his grave face; 
but Mathew was not ready yet to wholly excuse 
him. After a moment he said, as the scowl faded 
from his face: "You could have written." 

"I did. I wrote almost daily, and every mes- 
sage was full of affection and hope ; but, alas ! my 
letters never reached her." 


"They were intercepted." 

"Intercepted?" cried Mathew. 

"You have heard of Billington?" 


"He intercepted my letters." 

"How do you know that he did?" 

"From his written confession." 

"His written confession? When did you ob- 
tain it?" 


"Last evening. When I came here during your 
absence in search of my wife, from whom I had 
been so long and shamefully separated, I found 
Billington. He was very much frightened, for he 
supposed that I would kill him ; but I did not injure 
him, and only demanded that he should, in writ- 
ing, confess all that he had done, so that when I 
went to my wife I might have iny case made out 
so clear that not a shadow of guilt would be left. 
By this confession it seems that, after I left with my 
regiment, he set himself as a spy upon my wife. 
He originated the report that the marriage was a 
sham, when he was certain there was no way to 
prove to the contrary. He watched for my letters 
and, by subtle bribery, secured all of them, which 
he has preserved and last night turned over to me. 
Here is his written confession," and Mr. Eoby 
held up a roll of parchment, which was headed, 
" Confession of one Francis Billington." 

Mathew took the document, read it through from 
beginning to end and, carefully folding it, returned 
it to him. 

" Have you used every effort in your power to 
find your wife and child?" he asked, in a much 
calmer tone than he had before addressed Mr. Eoby. 

"As God is my judge, I did. I travelled all 
over England, but could not find them. She never 
took my name, which made my search much more 


difficult. While I bent all my energies to finding 
Sarah Roby, she was living in seclusion as Sarah 
White. When I searched North England she was 
in Plymouth, and while I was in Plymouth, she 
lived in the Downs; when I turned my attention 
to the Downs, she was in Lincolnshire, or immured 
in the very heart of London, so that all along my 
search has been in vain. Thus I wandered over 
all the old and new world without having any idea 
of where she was, or that she was even living, 
until by accident your friend Hans told me of a 
woman living here, and his description of her led 
me to believe that she was my long-lost wife. 
Even then I might not have suspected that Sarah 
White was in reality Sarah Roby, had not the 
strange conduct of Billington, of which he told me, 
awakened my suspicions. Then with your friend 
Hans I came here, to find her run mad and escaped 
to the forest " 

Grasping his hand, Mathew interrupted him 

" Forgive me, I realize now how greatly I have 
wronged you." 

"Say no more; you are forgiven." 

For a moment neither spoke. Hans sat at the 
other end of the bench unmoved by the dramatic 
episode. He had been all the while smoking his 
pipe with apparent unconcern. The tobacco had 


all burned out, and he desisted long enough to re- 
fill it, and proceeded to smoke again. 

"I want you to act as my embassador," said Mr. 

"She will be easily reconciled," Mathew an- 
swered. " I don't think that at any time she really 
believed from her heart that you had intentionally 
deserted her, although you must admit that the ap- 
pearances were very much against you." 

"They were, in fact. I have no fears of her 
forgiveness, however; but she is weak; she cannot 
endure a great shock." 

"I understand; you wish me to tell her that you 
are here?" 


"It will be a joy to me to do so." 

" Be careful not to break the news too suddenly. 
Take time be cautious do not tell her so sud- 
denly as to shock her nerves." 

Mathew promised to use due caution, and they 
entered the house to -consult with the priest Father 
Altham, who confirmed the statement made by 
William Roby. At the time of Roby's marriage, 
Father Altham, with other persecuted priests, was 
flying from England, and it was only by chance 
that he was in the neighborhood in disguise when 
he was called upon by the young officer to perform 
the marriage. He left England the next day after 


the marriage and had not seen Mr. Roby since, 
until they met at Jamestown, Virginia. 

When they had fully discussed the marriage, 
and the best plan of breaking the glad truth to 
Sarah Roby, the priest said: 

"I know your father, Mr. Stevens. He is an 
aged cripple living with his son at Jamestown. 
Being a Spaniard and a Catholic, I received his 
confession and administered the sacrament of the 
Lord's Supper to him while I was in Jamestown. 
Your brother, like yourself, is a Protestant. He is 
happily wedded and hath three beautiful children, 
the eldest of whom is a namesake of Captain John 

Mathew heard this intelligence as if it were a 
dream. His mind was so wholly engrossed with 
the story of William Roby, that his kindred were 
of only secondary importance. He was thinking 
only of the sunlight that was to beam on the long 
clouded hearts of Alice and her mother. 

Mathew did nothing precipitately. He waited 
until his nerves had become more steady and his 
excited spirit had had time to become calm. Then 
he walked leisurely to the house. Alice met him 
at the door. 

"Where is your mother?" he asked. 

"She is sleeping." 

"Alice, can you bear good news?" 



"Yes, "she answered, her eyes sparkling with 
hope and curiosity. 

"You may think yourself strong enough; but 
you little dream what I have to tell you." 

"I can bear it." 

" Will you be quite calm and not grow excited?" 

She assured him she would, and then he led her 
to the wooden bench near the window and sat by 
her side holding her hand in his as he began the 
story. He was frequently interrupted by excla- 
mations from Alice, who, laughing and weeping at 
the same time, like a child, fell on his breast at the 
conclusion and, in an ecstasy of joy, cried: 

"My father! O my father! where is he?" 

A piercing shriek at this moment startled both, 
and looking up they beheld Mrs. Eoby standing 
before them. With hands clasped and eyes raised 
heavenward she exclaimed: 

"God be praised! Day dawns at last!" 



Like as the damask rose you see, 
Or like the blossom on the tree, 
Or like the dainty flower in May, 
Or like the morning of the day, 
Or like the sun or like the shade 
Or like the gourd which Jonas had ; 
E'en such is man whose thread is spun, 
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done. 


A FEW days after the events narrated in the last 
chapter Francis Billington was found hanging in 
his own cabin. Overcome by remorse and shame, 
he had committed the first suicide ever known in 
New England. The discovery of his body swing- 
ing from the rafter produced a momentary shudder 
and gloom throughout the little colony. Although 
he was a bad man, those people were horrified at 
the thought of suicide. 

Three weeks after that event New Plymouth 
presented a lively scene. The romantic story of 
William Roby had gone all over New England, 



and he was now the most talked-about man in the 
country. A wonderful change had come over his 
wife, who up to the time of this advent had been 
known as Sarah White. Her cheek grew fresher 
and the wrinkles of age and care were bidden stand 
off for a while. There was not a happier home in 
all New England than the reunited family of Wil- 
liam Eoby. Mathew, the faithful lover, who 
through the darkest hours and trial of Alice and her 
mother had remained true and steadfast, was now to 
receive his reward. 

It was the dawn of his wedding day. From the 
wild wood went up the songs of feathered warblers, 
for the bleak breath of autumn had not yet blown 
upon the fields and woods. It Was the golden har- 
vest. The fields were heavy with ripening corn 
and bursting pods of beans, while the pumpkins 
lay like rich nuggets of gold on the hillside. The 
leaves had assumed a yellow tint, though they clung 
with youthful tenacity to their stems. 

It was a fit season for such a wedding. Both 
bride and groom were approaching the golden 
period of life. 

The church at Plymouth was decorated with 
wreaths and such wild flowers as were native to 
New England. Brewster, the officiating clergy- 
man, was in the pulpit, and at his side, an invited 
guest, was Father Altham, who, despite the preju- 


dices of the Puritans, was respected for the noble 
part he had played in the recent events in the col- 
ony. The young maids and children brought gifts 
of wild flowers and fruits, while the older people 
came laden with more substantial presents, and 
after the ceremony the married couple repaired to 
their newly constructed home to begin a new life. 
It was a gala day in New Plymouth, such as it had 
never known before in the history of the colony. 
The battery on the platform fired a salute in honor 
of the grand occasion, and the day closed with 
songs of thanksgiving and praise. 

It was a calm evening, and the husband and 
wife wandered down the street to the water and 
seated themselves on old Plymouth Rock to talk 
over their eventful lives and the goodness of God 
in bringing them through great tribulations. 

A large vessel, borne in swiftly by wind and 
tide, entered the bay. The boom of a gun an- 
nounced her arrival, and this was answered by a 
shot from the hill. The vessel dropped its anchor 
and, like some monster sea-fowl, folded its wings 
and slept on the wave. 

Vessels in the New Plymouth port were not un- 
common, and Mathew Stevens gave this one but 
very little thought. Next morning he was awak- 
ened by Captain Miles Standish and John Alden, 
who told him: 


"There is a vessel in from Jamestown, and it 
has brought two men to see you." 

"My father and brother!" cried Mathew, in an 
ecstasy of delight. "Are they on shore?" 

"They have just landed." 

Mathew hastened down to the sea-shore, where 
he found a great crowd of people assembled. In 
the throng was Mr. Eoby and the priest Father 
Altham talking with two men who were strangers 
at New Plymouth. The eldest, though evidently 
eighty years of age, had an eye that still retained 
its youthful vigor and fire. The second was be- 
tween forty and fifty, bearing such a remarkable 
resemblance to Mathew that one would at once 
suppose they were brothers. 

"Here he comes," said the priest, as Mathew 
Stevens hastened forward. " Mathew, your father, 
Senor Estevan." No need to say more; in a 
moment father and son, separated so many years, 
were clasped in each other's arms. The meeting 
between the brothers was fully as affecting, and 
they all went to Mathew' s house, where they were 
to remain during their visit at New Plymouth. 
Philip Stevens had brought his wife Emily and 
his three children with him, and never was there 
a more happy family group. 

Next day Francisco Estevan was shown the old 
chest, which had been taken by Drake from St. 


Augustine. It was like meeting a friend of his 
young childhood. When last he saw the old chest, 
he was in his young manhood, with hair dark as 
the raven. His beloved wife Hortense was with 
him ; but now she had long slept in the tomb at 
St. Augustine, while those babes, torn from the 
arms of their fond parents, were bearded and gray- 
haired men. Overcome with emotion at the recol- 
lections awakened by this old chest, tears started 
from his eyes and fell upon the quaint old lid. 

Tenderly he took from the chest some old family 
relics, among them a gauntlet worn by his father 
in the conquest of Peru. There was also a short 
dagger which his grandfather Hernando Estevan 
wore when he came with Columbus on that first 
wonderful voyage in 1492. On the hilt of the 
dagger was engraved the name of the beloved ad- 
miral "Columbo," with the date and place of his 
death, " Yalladolid, Spain, May 20, 1506." Lastly 
he took out the manuscript yellow with age, and 
read it with as much interest as if it had been a 

"What is it?" Mathew asked. "I have long 
wished to know the contents of that manuscript, 
but, being wholly ignorant of the Spanish lan- 
guage, I 'found it impossible to read a line of it.'" 

"It is the biography of your unhappy father," 
said Senor Estevan. " It tells a story of heartaches 


and wild, thrilling adventures. This old parch- 
ment relates how I left my father and mother to 
go to Spain to study for the monastery, and of the 
last parting with my brother Roderigo, who the 
same day sailed for Mexico. I have never seen 
my parents nor my brother since that bright morn- 
ing when I sailed from Cuba. It narrates how 
your father loved a fair Huguenot in France, who 
had saved his life from a shipwreck. It tells how 
he was captured by pirates on his return from 
Spain, taken to Fort Carolinia, where he again met 
his beloved Hortense and married her." The old 
man was quite overcome by the emotions which 
these recollections produced, and it took several 
minutes for him to recover. When he did so, he 
recalled his parting from his brother, and said: 

" My sons, I want to exact from you a promise." 

"What is it?" asked both Mathew and Philip. 

" You are Englishmen by adoption, education, 
and marriage. One day there will come strife be- 
tween the Spaniards and the English for possessions 
in the New World. As it may not come in your 
day I want to admonish you to make the same re- 
quest of your posterity which I make of you. Let 
it be an obligation binding on your sons, that they 
never raise their hands in deadly strife against an 

" Have we relatives in Florida?" Mathew asked. 


"None; but I left my parents and a sister in 
Cuba, where you may find their descendants. My 
brother went to Mexico, married, and has left a 
large family in that country. Like all other Span- 
iards they have been trained to hate the English; 
yet if they knew you were the sons of an Estevan, 
their arms would be opened wide to receive you. 
Do them no harm, I beseech of you." 

"Should we, in God's providence, meet we shall 
remember your words," answered both Mathew 
and Philip. 

The old man then bowed his gray head thought- 
fully in his hand, and, in a voice strangely husky, 

" I have seen the beloved faces of those whom I 
so long mourned as dead. I have prayed long for 
this, and now I feel that my prayer has been an- 
swered. She is on the other side, and I have 
nothing more to detain me here. Whensoever my 
God calls, I am willing to depart." 

"Father, father!" cried the sons, "let us thank 
God that we have been spared to meet each 

"I do thank him from the bottom of my heart," 
Senor Estevan answered. "Oh, Heaven, could 
Hortense have lived to see this hour, I would be 
happiest of all living mortals." 

"Father," said Mathew reverently, "she is a wit 


ness to this scene. My mother looks down from 
Heaven and beholds this glorious reunion." 

The door opened and Alice and Philip's wife 
Emily, accompanied by Father Altham and Mr. 
Brewster, entered in time to catch the last remark. 
The women bowed their heads, and Mr. Brewster 
raised his hands and offered a short prayer in which 
the priest joined. 

After that hour Sefior Estevan was a quiet, 
happy old man. 

"I have seen them together once more, and 
when I meet Hortense in Heaven I will tell her 
all about it," he said. 

Alice Stevens, when she had learned her hus- 
band's sad life, told him that she thought it was as 
romantic as her own. 

" It has been wild and tempestuous, as the dra- 
mas of life often are; but God, the great author 
who writes all the real plays, brings it out all right 
in the last act. Let us praise his holy name for 
ever and ever. " 

Mathew Stevens tried to induce his brother 
Philip to locate at Plymouth; but Philip had val- 
uable possessions in Virginia which he could not 
abandon. He, in turn, tried to induce his brother 
to emigrate to the latter country. That Mathew 
thought impossible. His wife could not think of 
tearing herself from her parents, who had decided 

Vol. 523 


to pass the remainder of their days in Plymouth. 
Consequently, after a visit of a few weeks, Philip 
with his family and father sailed for Virginia. 
Senor Estevan had valuable property in Florida 
which demanded his attention. Accompanied by 
his son Philip, he sailed for St. Augustine to look 
after it, and while in that city he showed his son 
the old cottage from which he and Mathew had 
been torn in their infancy, and pointed out the 
marks of Drake's artillery still visible on the roof. 
Shortly after their return to Jamestown, Senor 
Estevan died, and his body was taken to St. Au- 
gustine and buried by the side of his wife. Ma- 
thew was informed of the death of his father, and 
mourned the loss of the good man as if he had 
been reared by his tender hand. 

The colonies in New England, especially the 
Pilgrims at Plymouth, prospered. True, they 
met with many drawbacks. The continual theo- 
logico-political contests raged. The stern disci- 
pline exercised by the government at Salem pro- 
duced an early harvest of enemies; resentment long 
rankled in the minds of some whom Endicott had 
perhaps too passionately punished; and when they 
returned to England, Mason and Gorges, the rivals 
of the Massachusetts Company, willingly listened 
to their vindictive complaints. A petition even 
reached King Charles, complaining of distraction 


and disorder on the plantation; but it met with 
an unexpected issue. Massachusetts was ably de- 
fended by Saltonstall, Humphrey, and Craddock, 
its friends in England, and the committee of the 
privy council reported in favor of the adventurers, 
who were ordered to continue their undertaking 
cheerfully, for the king had no design to impose on 
the people of Massachusetts the ceremonies which 
they had emigrated to avoid. The country, they 
argued, would in time be very beneficial to England. 
Though defeated, revenge did not slumber, and 
the success of the Puritans in America disposed the 
leaders of the Episcopal party to listen to the 
clamors of the malignant. Proof was produced of 
marriages celebrated by civil magistrates, and the 
system of colonial church discipline, proceedings 
which were at variance with the laws of England. 
Such a departure from the long established laws of 
England alarmed the archbishops, who began to 
regard it as an affair of state, and early in 1634 a 
ship bound with passengers for New England was 
detained at the Thames by an order of the council. 
Still more menacing was the appointment of an 
arbitrary special commission for the colonies. 
Hitherto their affairs had been confided to the privy 
council. In April, William Laud, Archbishop of 
York, and ten of the highest officers of state were 
invested with full powers to make laws and orders 


for the government of English colonies planted in 
foreign parts, to appoint judges and magistrates, 
and establish courts for civil and ecclesiastical af- 
fairs, to regulate the church, to impose penalties 
and imprisonment for offences in ecclesiastical mat- 
ters, to remove governors and require an account 
of their government, to determine all appeals from 
the colonies and revoke all charters and patents 
which had been surreptitiously obtained, or which 
conceded liberties prejudicial to the royal preroga- 
tive. Craddock was charged to deliver in the pa- 
tent of Massachusetts, and he wrote to the governor 
and council to send it home; but on receipt of his 
letter they resolved to make no response to the 
demand. In September, a copy of the commission 
of Archbishop Laud and his associates was brought 
to Boston, and it was at the same time rumored 
that the colonists would be compelled by force to 
accept a new governor, the discipline of the Church 
of England, and the laws of the commissioners. 
The people of Massachusetts had too long breathed 
the free air of America to tolerate oppression. 
Weak as they were, they resolved to do just what 
their descendants a hundred and fifty years later 
did resist the tyrannical measure. They strength- 
ened their fortification, and the ministers assem- 
bling in Boston unanimously declared against the 
reception of a general governor. They said: 


" We ought to defend our lawful possessions if 
we are able; if not, to avoid and protect." 

Laud and his associates esteemed the inhabitants 
of Massachusetts to be men of refractory humors; 
complaints resounded of sects and schisms, of par- 
ties consenting in nothing but hostility to the 
Church of England, of designs to shake off the 
royal jurisdiction. Restraints were therefore placed 
upon emigration ; no one above the rank of serving- 
man might remove to the colony, without the 
special leave of the commissioners, and persons of 
inferior order were required to take oaths of supre- 
macy and allegiance. 

Though the colonists were threatened of their 
liberties, they pi'eserved them. They evinced a 
determination which, if it did not awe, at least 
caused their enemies to pause. Already the ideas 
of King Charles I. on the divine rights of kings 
had begun to involve him in trouble with his sub- 
jects at home, and he could pay little attention to 
his saucy colonists in the wilds of North America. 
Despite the high-handed course attempted by Laud, 
the colony prospered, legislation was improved, 
and courts extended; while three thousand settlers 
arrived. In 1639, another demand for the charter 
was made in peremptory terms, and, after a long 
pause, the court sent the Commissioners of Trade a 
firm but diplomatic refusal by the hand of Win- 


throp; but by this time the troubles at home were 
attracting all the attention of the enemies of the 
colonies. The Puritan party, rising rapidly in 
power, no longer looked to America for a refuge. 
True, the great tide of emigration ceased to flow ; 
but the government of Massachusetts, under the 
alternating rule of Winthrop, Dudley, and Belling- 
ham, went on wisely and strongly. 

The increasing troubles in England, which never 
ceased until Charles I. lost his throne and his head, 
crippled the holders of the Mason and Gorges grants, 
and the settlements in New Hampshire, whither 
Wheelwright had gone, and where turbulence had 
reigned, were gradually added to the jurisdiction 
of Massachusetts. In domestic matters everything 
went smoothly. There was some trouble with 
Bellingham, and Winthrop succeeded as governor. 
The oath of allegiance to the king taken by the 
magistrates was abandoned, because Charles had 
violated the privileges of Parliament, and the last 
vestige of dependence vanished. Already the 
American eagle had begun to plume her wings for 
the long flight of liberty. Massachusetts was di- 
vided into counties, and out of a ludicrous contest 
about a stray pig in which the deputies and magis- 
trates took different sides, an important controver- 
sy arose as to the powers of deputies and assistants, 
resulting in the division of the legislature into two 


branches, an upper and lower house, improving 
the political system. These two branches are pre- 
served in the legislatures and Congress to-day, 
forming the Senate and the House of Representa- 

About this time a more important event occurred, 
marking the first attempt at the federal system, 
which more than a century later became the central 
principle in the formation of the United States. 
Menaces of the Indians and the Dutch early con- 
vinced Connecticut and New Haven that some sort 
of union of the English was necessary. At first, 
Massachusetts was lukewarm; but, at last, com- 
missioners from Connecticut, Plymouth, and New 
Haven came to Boston, and a New England con- 
federation was formed. This confederacy excluded 
Rhode Island and the Gorges settlements in Maine, 
and provided for little more than an alliance offen- 
sive and defensive, with powers to make war and 
peace, under the name of the United Colonies of 
New England, increasing their power and giving 
themselves confidence in each other, as they 
marched shoulder to shoulder through the ages 
to liberty. 

Those whose fortunes we have followed through- 
out this story enjoyed that long peace which was 
the result of their courage and hardships, and they 
trained their children to grow up in the love of the 


inestimable liberties of which they had only re- 
ceived a taste. They were a great nation in 
embryo before they landed at Plymouth Rock. 
The seed of the nation was in the little compact 
made on board the May flower , in which there was 
expressed that love of civil and religious liberty 
inherent in every son and daughter of North 




Adventures in the forest 67 

Alden, John, a cooper from London 59 

Alden's wedding 188 

Anglican church 17 

Archbishop of York, Laud 355 

Argument for planting at Cape Cod 80 

Ark, TJie, at Barbadoes 299 

Arrival of De Rasierie ' s Comm ission at New Ply mouth . 1 62 

Arrival of Commissioners in Boston 356 

Avalon, Baltimore at 290 

Bacon, Lord 39 

Ballot-box, first used in America 199 

Baltimore, Lord, death of ; succeeded by Cecil, Lord 

Baltimore 295 

Baltimore piously decides to provide an asylum for 

persecuted Catholics '. 290 

Baltimore's patent for lands south of James River 294 

Billington's child lost 108 

Billingtons, father and son 56 

Billington, Francis, punished for insubordination.... 159 

Billington, John, endangers The Mayflower 81 

Billington, John, hung for murder 245 

Block, Adrien, captain of Tigressin New York Harbor. 123 

Block Island, Indians on, attacked 220 

Board of Lords Commissioners of American planta- 
tions appointed by Charles 1 137 

Boston founded, September 7, 1630 191 




Bradford caught in a trap 72 

Bradford, William, chosen second governor of the Pil- 
grims 100 

Brewster, William 4 

Brewster preaches his last sermon on The Mayflower. . 89 

Butten, William, dies on voyage 62 

Calvert, Leonard, first governor of Maryland 297 

Calvert at Jamestown 300 

Calvert's Colony on the Potomac 305 

Calvert purchases land from the Indians 308 

Cape Cod, Pilgrims in sight of 62 

Carver and Cushmau chosen to go to England and take 
with them the seven articles from the church 

at Leyden 37 

Carver chosen governor ; his death 100 

Carver receives letter from Robinson 59 

Charlestown, Mass. , founded 190 

Charter for Maryland 229 

Charter for the New Netherland 125 

Charter of Massachusetts ordered to be delivered up. . . 356 

Charles I. involved in trouble at home 357 

Colonists threatened of their liberties 357 

Commissioners appointed for Massachusetts 355 

Compact of Pilgrims 63 

Connecticut granted to Earl of Warwick 167 

Connecticut River discovered 124 

Connecticut declares war against Pequods 244 

Coppin, Robert, tells the Pilgrims of a suitable place 

for planting , 81 

Cotton, John, arrives in New England in 1633 197 

Cotton opposes Williams 203 

Cummaquid, Pilgrims at 110 

Davenport, Rev. John, arrives in Boston 262 

Davenport's colony framing constitution on the scrip- 
tures . . 265 



Death of Rose Standish 104 

De Rasierie's description of New Plymouth and the 

worship of the Pilgrims 165 

Dernier orders the Dutch from Manhattan 127 

Destruction of The Tigress 123 

Discoveries in Indian mounds 76, 77, 78 

Discoveries of Pilgrims on shore 70 

Dorchester Company try to establish a colony at Cape 

Ann 190 

Dorchester founded, Sept. 7, 1630 191 

Dove, The, returns to The Ark 300 

Dutch seek to have Pilgrims emigrate under them .... 36 

Dutch Point fortified 157 

Dutch West India Company 122 

Dutch West India Company take possession of Con- 
necticut 156 

Dutch governor sends a friendly messenger to Governor 

Bradford 158 

Dutch treaty with Five Nations 126 

Eaton, Theophalus '. 262 

Eaton, Theophalus, elected first magistrate of Quinni- 

piac 266 

English at Micomoco 307 

English colony planted in the valley of Connecticut. . . 166 

English in Connecticut 219 

English trespassing on the Dutch 268 

Endicott, commander of first expedition against Block 

Island 212 

Escape of the Pilgrims from England 13 

Expedition to Nanset for the lost boy 109 

Fort Amsterdam 131 

Fort Good Hope built 168 

Fort Orange ; 131 

Freemen's oath 203 

Freemen of Massachusetts choose deputies 198 



Gorges grant 134 

Harvard College founded by John Harvard, 1633 210 

Hartford Convention in 1639 269 

Harvey, governor of Virginia, orders Baltimore to 

leave his territory 293 

Haynes arrives in Massachusetts 197 

Holland a place of refuge for the Pilgrims 20 

Houses of the Pilgrims . : 105 

Housatonic River discovered 124 

Hooker's colony emigrates to Connecticut 197 

Humber, the Pilgrims at. 5 

Holmes, William, planting in Connecticut at Fort 

Good Hope 226 

Hopkins, Edward, arrived at Boston ; . . . . 262 

Hunt kidnaps Indians in America 35 

Hutchinson, Anna, murdered by Indians 250 

Indians attack the Pilgrims 85 

Indian depredations in Connecticut 220 

Indian houses discovered 79 

Investments of Pilgrims at Southampton 53 

Jones, captain of The Mayflower, accompanies the 
second expedition of Pilgrims on shore at Cape 

Cod 74 

King James, charter of 19 

I^aud, Archbishop of York 355 

Land of steady habits 270 

Landing of the Pilgrims 87 

Laud, threatens the colonists of their liberties 357 

Love story of Miles Standish 172 

Lynn, Massachusetts, founded 190 

Manhattan Island purchased of the Indians for twenty- 
four dollars 131 

Maryland has a representative government in 1C39 .... 309 

Maryland, how chartered and named .... 295 

Massasoit the sagamore 98 



Massacre of the Pequods 256 

Massachusetts colony in trouble 355 

Mason and Gorges grants 134 

Mason and Gorges grants weakened 358 

Mason attacks the Pequod fort 255 

Mason at Hartford 251 

Mason, Captain John, commander of the whites in 

Connecticut 244 

Matchlock, the 9 

Mayflower at Southampton 52 

Mayfloiver sails with Pilgrims, Sept. 6, 1620 61 

Mayflower compact 63 

Miles Standish 58 

Miles Standish and men set out to explore the country. 67 
Miles Standish and party set out to discover a suitable 

place for planting 83 

Miles Standish chosen captain of Pilgrims 94 

Miles Standish 's second expedition 74 

Murder, the first in New England 244 

Narragansetts and Niantucks join the English 252 

New Amsterdam 131 

New England Confederation 359 

New England named by Captain John Smith 36 

New Foundland, Baltimore at 292 

New Hampshire 135 

New Haven formed from the state of Quinnipiac in 1640. 267 

North Virginia Company seeks a new patent 47 

Oldham, John, killed by Pequods 211 

Orange, Fort 131 

Order of punishment of Roger Williams 204 

Patent granted to Pilgrims 46 

Patuxet 97 

Pequods defeated at Groton 256 

Pequod Indians on Block Island, hostilities against. . . 211 

Pequods jealous of English 219 




Pequod, the last 259 

Pequod war begins 244 

Pilgrims at Leyden 34 

Pilgrims begin to build 90 

Pilgrims' contract with London merchants 47 

Pilgrims leave Leyden and reach Delfshaven 50 

Pilgrims' petition to king for liberty of religion 38 

Pilgrims seeking fuel 65 

Pilgrims set sail, August 5th, and return 59 

Pilgrims' watch-fire 71 

Piscataways, Calvert's treaty with 306 

Plague in New England, in 1617 36 

Plantation covenant of Davenport 263 

Plymouth Company get a new charter 128 

Plymouth Rock 87 

Providence founded 209 

Puritans outwitting the Dutch for possessions in Con- 
necticut 225 

Puritan, term have originated 16 

Quinnipiac 262 

Quinnipiac changed to New Foundland 267 

Quitting Holland 50 

Reformation in England 16 

Reinolds, master of The Speedwell 52 

Rhode Island founded 209 

Robinson, John, favors emigration to the Hudson 46 

Robinson, John, the Puritan preacher 4 

Robinson's last charge to Pilgrims 51 

Kobinson to remain at Leyden 48 

St. Mary's, town of, laid out 308 

Samoset appears to Pilgrims 96 

Sandys, Sir Edwyn, treasurer of London Company .... 45 

Sassacus at Groton 256 

Sassacus, chief of the Pequods 219 

Sassacus, death of 258 



Separatist, how originated 18 

Smith and Hunt on the New England coast 35 

Southampton, Pilgrims at. 52 

Speedwell leaking 52 

Speedwell abandoned 60 

Squanto the Patuxet. 98 

Thames River discovered 124 

Town house takes fire 92 

Treaty between Pilgrims and Massasoit 99 

Uncas, the friend of the white people 244 

Uncas made chief 259 

Underbill, Captain John 244 

Underbill sent to attack the Pequods at Groton 256 

Van Twiller, the Dutch Governor of New Netherland 267 

Virginia, Baltimore in 292 

Voyages of The Ark and Dove 297 

Walloons 130 

Warwick conveys his chartered rights to Connecticut 

to Lords Say, Scale, Brooke et al, in 1 632 168 

Watertown founded, September 7th, 1630 191 

White, William, death of Ill 

White's, Father, description of Potomac 305 

Whitgift forbids preaching 17 

Williams, Roger, arrives in Massachusetts, March 5th, 

1631 191 

Williams, Roger, sketch of 192 

Williams among the Indians. . 208 

Williams among the Narragansetts 230 

Williams banished ; order of banishment 204 

Williams called as pastor of Salem ; withdraws and 

goes to Plymouth 194 

Williams founds Rhode Island 209 

Williams resolves to prevent the Narragansetts from 

uniting with the Pequods 228 

Williams before Miantanomoh 234 



Williams' second call to Salem 200 

Williams' trouble with the church 201 

Windows of the Pilgrims 247 

Wives and children of the Pilgrims seized by the 

King's horse 15 

Wives and children of Pilgrims released 21 

Wood, fuel of Mayflower, scarce , 63 


A.D. 1620 TO A.D. 1643. 

1620. GREAT PATENT granted to Plymouth Company, 40' 

to 48 lat. , and ocean to ocean, Nov. 3. 
PLYMOUTH, MASS., settled by the Puritans, Dec. 
11. (Compact signed on the Mayflower before 
landing, Nov. 11.) 

1621. TREATY WITH MASSASOIT, chief of the Wampa- 

noags, which was the beginning of fifty years 
of peace, March 22. 

1622. GORGES AND MASON'S GRANT between the Merri- 

mac and Kennebec rivers. 

OPECHANCANOUGH'S WAR ; first Indian massacre in 
Virginia; 347 whites killed, March 22. 

1623. PORTSMOUTH AND DOVER, N. H., settled by Gorges 

and Mason. 

1625. ACCESSION OF CHARLES I. to the throne of Eng- 
land, March 27. 

1628. ENDICOTT'S GRANT from the Plymouth Company, 

from three miles south of the Charles River 

to three miles north of the Merrimac River, 

and from ocean to ocean. March 19. 

SALEM, MASS., settled by the Massachusetts Bay 

Company; Gov. John End icott, Sept. 6. 
Vol. 524 369 


1629. ORDER OF PATROONS founded by the Dutch in New 


1630. WARWICK'S GRANT, "westward from Narragan- 

sett River, 120 miles along the coast, west to 
the Pacific Ocean. " 
BOSTON founded by Winthrop. 

1631. WARWICK'S GRANT transferred to Lords Say 

Brooke, and others, March 10. 
MASON named his grant New Hampshire. 
GORGES named his grant Maine. 

1632. MARYLAND granted to Lord Baltimore. 

1633. WINDSOR, CONN., settled by William Holmes, from 

Plymouth, Mass. 

1634. MARYLAND settled at St. Mary's by Calvert, 

March 27. 

1 636. PROVIDENCE, R. I. , founded by Roger Williams. 

1637. PEQUOD WAR in Connecticut, First Indian war in 

New England. 

1638. DELAWARE settled near Wilmington by Swedes 

and Finns, New Sweden. 

NEW HAVEN, CONN. , settled by Eaton and Daven- 
port, April 18. 

HARVARD COLLEGE founded by bequest of John 
Harvard, at Cambridge, Mass., Sept. 14. 

1639. FIRST PRINTING-PRESS in America, at Cambridge, 

Mass. , January. 

1641. NEW HAMPSHIRE settlements united to Massachu- 

1643. UNITED COLONIES of New England formed, 
May 19. 


Los Angeles 
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 

Form L9-50m-4,'61(B8994s4)444